


Dust, Like Gold

by Dangsoo



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Assassination Plot(s), Awesome Phasma, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Corsetry, Coruscant, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is a Tease, Hux's stripper name is starkiller, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kissing, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren is a Mess, Lingerie, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mind Manipulation, Mutual Masturbation, POV Kylo Ren, Pole Dancing, Political Alliances, Politics, Strip Tease, Verbal Abuse, hux in lingerie, hux is a private escort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangsoo/pseuds/Dangsoo
Summary: Kylo Ren's mission was simple: Dispatch the target and get off this rat's nest of a planet as fast as physically possible. That is, until he found himself staring at Star Killer, a high society escort with a chip on his shoulder and a strange fascination for the black clad man at the bar.A Kylux Stripper!Au





	1. Coruscant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EverlivingGhosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverlivingGhosts/gifts).



** Chapter 1 **

_Welcome to Coruscant. Approximate arrival 30 minutes. Docking status approved. Align for fixed-landing tractor beam._

 

Ren felt his mood dip even further as the computer recited this information into his little cockpit. He hated this planet. He hated the crowds, the people, the landscape. It was seedy, dirty, overcrowded and all too familiar. It reminded him of memories he had no wish to relive, and pulled on his base desires in ways he resented himself for. He adjusted his trajectory slightly, his small, beaten up ship falling into the pull of the planet’s tractor beam. ‘ _No turning back now,’_ he thought ruefully as he felt the ship shudder with the pull of the auto-docking system. His ship drifted at a fixed speed, adverts for clubs, bars and random items flashing up as he passed. Ren had to turn his head, disgust rolling through him in waves. He chewed on his lip, arms crossed as his ship was auto-docked, the system powering down and the door opening for him with a sharp _hiss._

 

A Bith in a bright orange jumpsuit poked its head around the door and squeaked at him. Ren ignored him, instead preferring to stare ahead. When he was not forthcoming, the Bith shrugged and walked over to the ship docked next to his, cheerily greeting those who had just stepped out. Ren let out a long, slow breath. Admitting defeat, he stood, pulled his helmet on, and grumpily left his spacecraft. The door hissed shut behind him as he stomped away from it, refusing to make eye contact with anybody around him, though he could feel them staring. 

 

He left the docking port, trying to block out the barrage of sound and sensations that hit him as the doors slid open. It was hot and dry, the air thick with dust, fumes and the smell of food. The sounds of aliens of all species shouting and talking, footsteps and transports whizzing above permeated his eardrums, making his head pound. The incessant chattering of peoples’ thoughts and whims pricked at his mind. No matter how hard he tried to avoid others, he was regularly jostled and bumped as people pushed past him. It was stifling, and Ren found himself regretting his decision to return to this planet more and more with each second.

 

He ducked into the first Inn he saw; a dirty, run down place that was sure not to be overflowing with customers… or unwanted room service. He glowered at the greasy desk manager, silently manipulating her mind and stomping away when she handed him a key. He climbed the stairs, feeling the lingering sensation of her fear drift away as he unlocked his door, revealing a sparse, slightly dusty bedroom with a single bed in the corner. It was unpleasant; the mattress was hard, the springs creaking as he slumped onto it, his head drooping. 

 

He took a deep breath, allowing his surroundings and the sound of the street below him to fall away as he dipped into the Force. The all encompassing blackness soothed him, returning his equilibrium and allowing his breathing to return to a more normal pace. _‘Remember why you are here,’_ his mind supplied him.

 

Oh, he knew why. Coruscant was a fugitive’s dream - a huge, constantly moving population of all kinds of species, and a famously corrupt law enforcement. As long as you didn’t break any laws while on their planet, the government didn’t care what you’d done on others. One could hide in plain sight for months. Ren had done it before, and would very likely do it again. 

 

It was necessary. It was required for his current job. That didn’t make the knowledge that he’d potentially be forced to remain here for any length of time much easier. The longer one stayed, the wider the cracks grew, revealing the true rotten underbelly of a city that ran on vice and underhand deals. It was sickening. 

 

Sighing heavily, Ren delved into a pocket and pulled out the instructions he'd been issued. He’d scrawled them onto a scrap bit of flimsiplast after receiving them, wiping the original holomessage and scrambling the frequency as per usual. It was easier to burn a note. 

 

_Samira Harrin - High Senate_

_Human_

_Coruscant_

_Swift no mess_

_Before Magistrate’s Ball_

 

His lips pursed. He had not ben provided with an image or instructions on where on Coruscant to find this person, and the seething mass of minds and emotions made it very difficult to track someone through the Force. He didn’t know why his client wanted them disposed of, nor did he care. Personal information and allegiances made it complicated, and Ren didn’t tread on either side of the First Order or the Resistance. He’d lost his sense of right and wrong long ago when he’d killed his fellow Padawan and left everything behind. 

 

Ren reluctantly pulled himself up, no longer able to ignore the rumbling of his stomach. With a great feeling of dread sitting on his shoulders, he donned his helmet and descended the stairs into the street. 

 

—

 

Coruscant was a city that never slept. The evening had drifted resolutely into the night, and the streets were just as busy as they had been in the day, with the exception of the fashion becoming more provocative. Music had replaced shouting, and Ren pulled off his helmet, sick of the stares as he tried to edge past a crowd of scantily clad Twi’lek handing out flyers. One grabbed his upper arm, squeezing appreciatively as she felt the thick muscle under his sleeve. 

 

“Ooh,” she said, her accent thick. “I bet you look good under all that fabric.” 

 

Ren grunted, tugging his arm out of her grip and attempting to push past her again. She stepped into his path, a smirk on her face. “Here. You look like you need to loosen up a little bit.” 

 

Shoving a flyer into his hand, she stepped back with a wink. “Just around the corner.” 

 

Ren glared down at the flyer, a gaudy thing advertising a pole dancing club. Emblazoned in big pink letters at the bottom were the words _Star Killer: Tonight._

 

“‘Star Killer?’ What kind of a stripper name is that?” he grumbled at the Twi’lek.

 

“Oh, so you do speak.” She drawled, a knowing smile on her face. “Go and find out.” 

 

To Ren’s chagrin, he found himself curious. He frowned at the flyer, crumpling it slightly in his grip. _‘You’ve got nothing better to do,’_ a mocking voice echoed in his head. Clamping that down and the slightly unnerving echo of himself fucking the Twi’lek which had bled from her mind, he grit his teeth and stomped away. _‘Don’t indulge in fickle desires,’_ he growled at himself. 

 

—

 

Half an hour later, Ren stood in front of the club entrance, the flyer crumpled into a ball in his fist. The grimy exterior and blinking neons mocked him, and the bouncer at the door eyed him confusedly. He’d passed by it a few times now, and a quick touch of her mind revealed she was starting to recognise him. Ren knew his time was up. Quashing the final self-depreciating thoughts, he stepped forward. The bouncer stepped aside, and he began to descend the dimly lit staircase and pushed open the door at the bottom.

 

The room Ren was greeted with was small and grimy. Even in the dim light, Ren could see that the carpet was stained and sticky, the paint on the walls peeling. The room was lined with plush sofas and dotted with tables. In the centre was a T shaped stage and runway which finished with a pole. Despite its drab features, it was full of people, chatting and watching a trio of Gungan undressing each other. He instantly hated it. 

 

A slight, nervous looking man with dark hair approached Ren. “Here for the show?” He asked, noting the crumpled flyer in his grip. Ren nodded once, sending him a sharp look, and the man bowed, showing him to a seat near the stage. He placed a gold-coloured drink in front of Ren, and to his luck, left him alone after that.

 

Ren found himself staring through the dancers in front of him, idly scanning the minds of the others there, noting what species turned on who. There was a Togrutan female who was popular with the table in the corner. One human was particularly struck by an Omwati who’d run his long fingers through her hair. It was mildly amusing to note the amount of people staring at the shy bartender instead of the dancers. However, this wasn’t the distraction he’d been looking for, and as the last dancer left the stage and the light dropped, he reached for his drink, making to leave. 

 

The murmurs which had permeated the room since he’d arrived dipped, and there was an air of anticipation growing. Ren paused; a quick sweep of his neighbours’ minds suggested that the next person to step onto the stage was the one they’d all come to see. The lights rose again on the grotty little stage, the faces of the spectators dimly lit. Ren’s hatred for the vile place seated itself more firmly in his gut, but he found himself waiting for the next dancer like all the others anyway. Strange, lilting music filled the room, and someone emerged.

 

Ren had no idea what he was expecting. It certainly wasn’t what he saw. A skinny human with bright orange hair and skin as white as snow stepped unceremoniously onto the stage. He was wearing expensive looking lingerie: a silk pair of briefs and matching suspenders sat on his slim hips; he’d decided to forgo the bra and stockings. His limbs were long and gangly. His features were smooth and undefined, bordering on feminine. His eyes were set with a strange mix of contempt, defiance and relish. He was challenging the audience, judging them for being there, and revelling in their attention. 

 

Ren felt something within him shift as the man stepped, barefoot, towards the pole. He stretched his body, one arm reaching high and grabbing the smooth metal as he pressed his back to it, throwing his head back and taking a deep breath, his other arm tightly braced behind him. His ribs showed under his skin as his chest expanded, but Ren could clearly see the soft ripple of muscles. The man’s whole body tensed, and to Ren’s amazement he lifted his entire body off the ground and over his head, wrapping his legs tightly around the top of the pole. Releasing his arms, he stretched towards towards the floor, his back muscles taut, before curving his upper body upwards like a snake. Ren found his eyes drifting off his face and onto his nipples, stretched taut across his torso as he reached again for the pole. They were hard in the slightly cool room, but there was a fine sheen of sweat beginning to form across his upper back as he continued to perform complex acrobatics at an almost leisurely pace. 

 

Ren wouldn’t have called it overtly sexual. Star Killer wasn’t taking off any clothes, and he wasn’t touching himself. He wasn’t even looking at the crowd. Rather it was a spectacle, an expression of the physical form, like some sort of moving sculpture. Like all the others in the room, he couldn’t look away. The fabric over his groin was becoming uncomfortably tight, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat, vainly trying to relieve some of the pressure. The man continued to bend and stretch regardless, the pole almost an extension of his body. The sweat on his back was pronounced now, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion. A strand of his neatly combed hair had fallen out of place, flopping over his forehead and sticking there with sweat. He pulled himself up into another contortion, and his head fell back. His eyes snapped open after a moment and locked onto Ren’s. Blood rushed downwards so quickly it left Ren slightly dizzy, his breath heavy as the man tore his eyes away again, seemingly unaffected, smoothly curving into another strange shape. 

 

The music finished all too soon, fading out into silence as the man lowered himself down and stepped away, his hand lingering on the pole as he turned to leave the stage. His damp back glinted in the gaudy stage lights, his slim hips rolling as he padded down the runway, looking ahead, ignoring the audience who were still staring in reverent silence. Nobody clapped. Nobody spoke. 

 

Just before he stepped backstage, Star Killer paused and turned his head. His eyes fell on Ren, studying him for a moment. Ren could hear the blood pounding in his ears as their gazes met, the man looking at him appraisingly. Before he could react, he was gone, stepping off the stage without so much of a flourish, leaving Ren reeling in his seat. He could feel the jealous eyes of others on him, but he paid no mind. He was too busy trying to work out if the flash of a smirk that crossed the man’s face had been real or his imagination.

 

The lights fell again, and the volume rose back to its normal level, a slight sense of awe lingering in the air. Ren stood and strode to the bar. 

 

“Who was that?” He said, cutting over the bartender’s conversation with another customer. The bartender turned towards him, annoyed, but his expression quickly changed when he saw who had spoken. 

 

“That’s Star Killer. He’s the one you came to see, wasn’t he?” he stuttered. 

 

“I want to talk to him.” 

 

“Oh no you don’t.” A voice said behind him. It was the bouncer, a tall, burly woman with blonde hair. “He chooses who he talks to.”

 

Ren turned on her, fuming, but her expression was resolute. Oh, he could kill her with one swipe of his hand if he so desired, but then he’d risk not seeing the Star Killer again. His nose wrinkled as he decided. “Fine. When does he perform?” 

 

“Weekends.” 

 

“So tomorrow?”

 

The bouncer nodded, a smirk playing on her lips. “Will we be seeing you again?” 

 

Ren’s lip curled as he pushed past her, climbing the stairs out of the club and into the bustling street again. He pushed past the Twi’lek who’d given him the flyer, her echoing calls following him down the street as he charged towards his grimy little room. Taking the steps two at a time, his breath coming in short gasps, he barged into his room, waving a hand to shut it with the force as he shrugged off his outer layers. He flopped backwards onto his bed, his mind filled with images of Star Killer, his lithe body bending and tensing as he wrapped himself around that pole…

 

Ren shoved his hand into his trousers, groaning deeply as his hand found his dick. He wrapped his fingers around his erection, roughly jerking himself off, his breath coming in short gasps as he imagined feeling the curve of Star Killer’s thin frame, hands roaming down his body, thumbs brushing over his nipples. Imagined the sound that he’d make when Ren pressed into him, imagined the expression he’d make as he came, hard-

 

Ren came with a low moan, his body trembling, cheeks and chest flushed, his breath ragged. He hadn’t felt lust for anyone in such a long time, let alone allowed himself to indulge in sexual desire. It hadn’t taken long for him to come, and he felt the reverberations of his orgasm rolling through him even now. The warm, satiated feeling of the afterglow permeated with images of a moaning redhead ended, however, and were replaced with feelings of deep shame. _‘You could have picked any species in the galaxy, but you picked a fucking stripper from some lowbrow club on Coruscant?’_ his mind spat at him. _‘You’ve lost control. You will not go back.’_

 

Ren’s mood soured and he rolled over, staring at the wall. The sound of the street bled through the silence and permeated his mind, the deep throb of base music reverberating through the building. He allowed his mind to drift into blankness, his bleak situation settling over him like a heavy blanket. The lingering thought that he was probably going to die alone loomed over him as he drifted into sleep. 

 

—

 

The next evening found Ren once again standing in front of the club, the bouncer watching him, a knowing look on her face. “Welcome back,” she said. “He’s on in an hour.” 

 

Ren grunted, sweeping past her and down the stairs. The scared bartender directed him to the same seat as before, and Ren noted mutely that there was a small placard that said _reserved_ sitting next to a drink. Ren glanced at the bartender, who shrank away. “We knew you’d come back,” he stuttered, “and Star Killer said to send his regards.” 

 

Ren’s stomach dropped. “Star Killer?” 

 

The bartender nodded. “Enjoy the show,” he said, and before Ren could say anything else, he’d hurried away.

 

Ren sat, slightly dumbstruck. _'What kind of person_ sends their regards? _He's pole dancer, for fuck’s sake, not a king.'_ But, Ren found as he sipped his drink, he felt slightly privileged anyway. 

 

The hour trundled by, punctuated with only the chatter of other punters and the changing of music as dancers came and left. There were people on the floor today, and Ren amused himself with watching their failed attempts to eke tips from customers. Nobody approached him. His aura of rage permeated everything within a 5 foot radius, force or no, and wisely people kept their distance. Ren stared through the gyrating figures on the stage, only mildly interested. Eventually, finally, the lights dropped and the tone of the room changed, and Ren felt his stomach lurch. 

 

There was no music this time when Star Killer stepped onto the stage. He was wearing more this evening: a complete set of black lace lingerie and thigh high stockings, but had still chosen to forgo shoes. Over the top of this he was wearing some kind of caged harness which did little to preserve his modestly. Instead of walking towards the pole, he remained at the back, where a tall bar stool was sitting ready for him. Star Killer sat on the chair, his legs spread. There was a moment as he idly regarded the audience before his eyes flicked over to Ren, clocking him sitting there, staring. His expression took on a tone of smug confidence. He span himself on the chair and faced his back to the audience. Music filled the room again, slower than last time, and Star Killer lifted one arm into the air. 

 

Ren felt a rush of unbridled anticipation as Star Killer bent backwards, his spine curving gracefully as his head fell back. Slowly, leisurely, his arm drew back down as he leaned forward again, his hand relaxed. He turned his head to the side and gently rested the back of his hand on his head, before drawing it slowly across his cheek and down towards his collar bone. His eyes flashed to Ren as he trailed a finger over his shoulder and slid a thumb under the shoulder strap of the harness, pushing it off. Ren’s stomach flipped as he realised the nature of this show. The man on the stage definitely smirked this time, letting his head nonchalantly roll to the other side of his shoulder as he slid the other strap off. Ren’s eyes were fixed on his slender hands, which fell to his waist and trailed upwards, tracing the form of his torso until they met at the small of his back, the skin between his shoulder blades pressing together as he began to unclasp the back of the harness. When it was free, he pulled it off and casually dropped it to the floor. 

 

Star Killer’s impeccably styled hair flopped a little as he quickly spun on the stool. He crossed his legs, flexing his ankle as he regarded the audience with a look akin to disdain, before he reached for the first clasp holding up his stockings. When that was free, he made quick work of the other, before he languidly stood. Turning his back once again to the audience, he rested one hand on the stool and bent forward, giving Ren a full frontal view as he slid his hand downwards, over his peachy ass and unclasped the back of his suspenders. His eyes swept the room, lingering for just a moment on Ren as he circled the stool, coming to rest behind it. In one smooth movement he straddled it, sliding forward so that his lacy briefs were pulled tight over his dick. Ren could only imagine what his ass looked like, pressed up against the chair, his legs spread wide. Star Killer’s fingers deftly found the clasp of the suspender, and he whipped that off too, dropping it. 

 

The next to go was the bra. Star Killer began at his knees, still spread wide. His hands slid up his thighs, curving inwards to brush gently past his groin and up the front of his torso. His hands traced over the cups of the bra, following the lace trim and catching under the shoulder straps. He pulled them off one by one, shoulders rolling languidly as he did so. He reached behind his back and the sight of the bra, pulled taut over his skinny frame as he pushed his chest forward made Ren’s head spin. The bra was undone, and Star Killer shrugged it off his arms, holding it in one hand and regarding it for a moment, before looking away and dropping it. 

 

Ren’s heart stuttered as Star Killer swung his legs forward. Only two items of clothing to go. Ren watched in rapt silence, his hand clenching and unclenching over the arm of his chair as the man stood and circled the stool again, a finger deftly tracing the curve of the seat as he stepped around it. He lifted a long leg and placed his foot on the chair seat. His briefs were stretched taut. This time, his hands began at his neck, fingers brushing behind his ear and fluttering gently down. They lingered for a moment on his newly revealed nipples, and he tweaked them, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently bit his bottom lip. Ren let out a clipped breath, decidedly hard now. The sight before him, a thin, pale man with orange hair and an obvious power complex shouldn’t do this to him, but it was so teasing, so _erotic._ Ren lapped it up like water in a desert. 

 

Star Killer’s fingers left his nipples and slid down over his stomach, which jerked slightly at the tickling sensation. They slid over his briefs, past his thighs, and finally made contact with the stocking above his knee. He hooked two thumbs in the lace and slowly, sensually, rolled them down his legs, bending forward, his back arched, to reach his ankles. He pulled it off, and it too was dropped to the floor. Ren’s breath was ragged as he watched the man change legs and place his hands on his neck again, but this time his hands did not linger upon his nipples. They slid down the centre of his chest, straight over his belly button and into his happy trail. 

 

One hand diverged to his thigh, but the other continued on downwards over the briefs, his palm flattening as he pressed it over his dick. He heard Star Killer give a little gasp as he rubbed his groin through his underpants, his eyes falling on Ren, a playful smirk on his lips as he stole one final touch. Ren wasn’t sure when his mouth had fallen open, but he quickly snapped it shut as Star Killer reached for the other stocking and rolled it off, nonchalantly throwing it over his shoulder. He stepped off the stool and placed a hand on his waist, sliding it down to the waistband of his briefs, tracing the lace with his thumb. Ren’s breath caught in his throat as he slid a finger below the waistband, their eyes locking, but the fantasy was quickly dashed as Star Killer deftly removed his hand, picked up the stool by a leg and strutted off the stage without so much as a glance back. 

 

Murmurs grew among the crowd; Ren could see people studying him as he sat there, staring at the empty stage as the lights rose. A quick Force sweep of the room revealed that Star Killer’s attentions hadn’t gone unnoticed. The general consensus was curiosity, and among some, unbridled jealousy. Ren wasn’t sure what to feel - these thoughts, though clouded by the persistent erection pressing into his trousers, were a mix of interest and trepidation heavily tinged with shame. He frowned, releasing his vice-like grip on the chair and standing. As he strode across to the door, he could see the quivering bartender waving at him from the corner of his eye, but decided to ignore him, instead reaching for the door to the stairs. Before he could grab hold of the handle however, his path was blocked by the bouncer. 

 

“Not yet, champ.” 

 

Ren growled at her, his lip curling in a snarl. To her credit she stood her ground, a smirk playing across her lips. “Star Killer’s coming out in a moment. Don’t you want to talk to him?” 

 

Ren tensed, an internal conflict battling in his mind as he stared down the bouncer. Finally, he slumped. “Fine. How long is he going to be? I’m not waiting for hours.” 

 

“Not that long,” she said lazily. “Go sit at the bar; you’re in the way of the door.” 

 

Ren’s lip curled again but he conceded, turning on the spot and stomping to the bar. The bartender’s hand on the drink he was making began to shake more violently with each step Ren took towards him, until there was more drink on the bar than in the glass. Ren ignored the customer in question’s nonplussed noise as they received half a drink, and instead sat heavily onto a bar stool. He slouched over the bar, finding himself staring at a strange bulbous bottle of baby pink liquid that sat on the facing bar shelf, huffing out a sadistic laugh as the bartender tried vainly to serve drinks while staying out of Ren’s sightline. Ren was enjoying watching him literally ducking under the bar to get to the till when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

 

Ren shrugged the hand off, angrily turning to growl at the person who’d so rudely interrupted him,but his expression immediately changed when he saw their face. A tall, lanky red-headed man in a silken robe - more clothes than Ren had ever seen him in - was smirking down at him.

 

“Hello,” he said. 

 

Ren’s throat worked, but no sound came out. Instead he sat there, mouth slightly open as he stared at the man that had so heavily occupied his thoughts for the past day. It was highly embarrassing, and Ren could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks as he remembered just who it was that had made his trousers uncomfortable. 

 

The man raised a condescending eyebrow before he slid onto he bar stool next to Ren. He waved lazily at the bartender, who scurried over. “Something strong please, Mitaka.” 

 

“Yes, Sir.” Mitaka looked towards Ren, who was about to ask for the same as before, when the lurid pink drink caught his eye again. He gestured towards it, and Mitaka nodded and turned, grateful for the opportunity to stop looking at Ren. 

 

“Interesting choice,” Star Killer said as the drink was slid across to him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Rancor Aid drinker.” 

 

“Rancor Aid?”

  
  
“Hmm. It’s from Dathomir - it’s made from the skin of a Rancor.”

 

Ren reluctantly swallowed the sip he’d just taken and pushed it away. “Skin.” He said, his voice flat.

 

“Skin.”

 

“Excellent.” 

 

Star Killer’s lip curled into a half smile as he watched Ren come to terms with the fact that he’d just drank a Rancor. “You know, the funniest thing is that it doesn’t actually taste that bad.” 

 

Ren had to smile. “No actually, it doesn’t.” 

 

The man smirked, eyeing Ren. “So, what brings you to this shit hole?” 

 

“What, this club or Coruscant in general?” 

 

“I meant Coruscant, but you’re not wrong,” Star Killer said, his eyes trailing the cracks in the ceiling. 

 

“How do you know I don’t live here?”

  
  
Star Killer rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I’m not an idiot. You bleed _foreign._ ”

 

“Is that going to be a problem?” Ren asked, his voice dropping. He wasn’t too fond of being reminded of home.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Star Killer spat. “You’re nothing to me no matter where you’re from.” 

 

Ren’s anger quickly subsided, replaced with a wry interest. He smiled darkly. “Is that so? It didn't seem that way from where I was sitting.”

 

Star Killer raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ren watched Star Killer’s Adam’s apple bob as he threw back the final dregs of his drink and lifted two fingers towards Mitaka.

 

“Is this stuff strong?” Ren asked, surprised as two drinks were slid down the bar towards them. 

 

“One is for you. Come with me.” And with that, Star Killer stood and sauntered away from the bar. Grabbing his glass in a large hand, Ren stumbled after him, strangely captivated by the way the thin man’s hips swayed as he walked. Ren realised with surprise as he drew closer that Star Killer and he were nearly the same height, but the man’s waifish frame was so different from Ren’s own that he couldn’t help but continue to imagine him as shorter. If he put both hands around his waist, would his fingers touch? 

 

The thought of Ren’s hands wandering the smooth, pale expanse of Star Killer’s torso made his breath catch a little. He faltered, feeling blood rush downwards again as he imagined the flush on Star Killer’s chest and the smell of his skin… Star Killer looked back, his hair flopping over his eye, an expectant look on his face. Ren swallowed, mentally shaking himself, and quickly fell into step behind him again. He didn’t miss the slightly amused look that flashed across Star Killer’s face as his eyes flicked downwards. Ren tried to swallow his embarrassment and avoided hunching over. 

 

They arrived at the back of the room, where a heavy curtain separated the main room from a small side area. The curtain was pulled back as Star Killer stepped towards it, the attendant dipping their head respectively as he passed. Ren felt the rush of the heavy fabric behind him as he crossed its threshold. The space was small, the carpet less walked-on; a wide sofa and a low table with a couple of coasters pretty much filled it. Star Killer had flopped onto the sofa, one leg resting on the table, his arm thrown over the back. His robe had slipped off slightly, revealing his leg up to mid-thigh and a flash of his pale chest. It was a heady sight. Ren stood for a moment, awkwardly fingering his drink as he took in his situation before Star Killer jerked his head towards the sofa. 

 

“Are you going to sit down, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me? You can do that from the cheap seats.” 

 

Ren jumped into action, hurrying to sit next to him. He let his back sink into the sofa as he took a tentative sip of the drink. It burned his throat like fire. Star Killer chuckled and took a conspicuous gulp of his own as Ren eyed the golden liquid in his glass, eyes watering. “What am I drinking?”

 

“Coruscanti Whiskey. It’s pretty much moonshine. Suits the atmosphere, doesn’t it?” 

 

“How do you throw it back like that? It tastes like licking batteries.”

 

“It gets you drunk, fast.” 

 

Ren blinked at Star Killer as he took another drink, hissing through his teeth as it burned the back of his throat. He leaned forward to sling the glass onto the table, and Ren caught a glimpse of Star Killer’s pink nipple as his robe sagged. He licked his lips, absently taking a sip of his moonshine and wincing as it burned his tastebuds. Star Killer leaned back into the sofa, watching him. “Just throw it back. Never turn down a free drink. It tastes better if you can’t taste it. ”

 

Ren steeled himself, before tipping the glass and gulping his drink down whole. It was vile; it burned his insides like lava and left a smoky, chemical taste in his mouth. He suppressed a shudder as he put down the glass, glad to be rid of it. Star Killer smirked, one eyebrow raised, before he pulled himself up to his knees and crossed the small distance between them on the sofa. Ren’s heart skipped as he caught the sound of Star Killer’s breath. There was a heavy, tense moment between them, then warm, long fingers touched Ren’s shoulder. Star Killer’s voice was low when he spoke. “Take this off,” he said, plucking at his scarf. 

 

Ren pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. Star Killer regarded him for a moment, before running a long finger across the top of his shoulder. “And this,” he said, pressing at his sleeveless body warmer. Ren found himself strangely pliant, and obediently undid his thick belt and unfastened the body warmer, shrugging both off. Star Killer’s eyes twinkled at what was revealed underneath. “Ooh,” he said, gesturing to the panel of mesh that conveniently revealed Ren’s toned body. “This is fun.” 

 

Ren wished he’d left some of that awful moonshine so that he’d have something to distract himself from Star Killer’s predatory gaze. He could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Star Killer flashed a sideways smile, before leaning in even further. “But,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “his is what I wanted to see.” He took hold of Ren’s upper arm, fingers tightly encasing the muscle there as he squeezed. “So broad,” he murmured to himself as he slid his hands down towards Ren’s elbow. His eyes flicked to Ren’s, who was studying the plane of Star Killer’s chest, revealed as he bent over. “Flex for me.” Star Killer commanded. Ren felt himself blushing full force now as he flexed his arm, Star Killer’s fingers pressing into the tight muscle. The corner of his lip quirked into a smile as he met Ren’s eyes again, and Ren felt his cheeks flush. He felt like he’d somehow been opened up, feelings bared to the red headed stripper next to him. _‘Is this man a Force user?’_ A quick brush of Star Killer’s mind suggested that he was not, but Ren wasn’t so easily mollified. He knew strong Force users could shield themselves. Perhaps this man knew everything about him - his history, his crimes, his family-

 

Ren’s erection, which had been bothering him persistently since he’d stood from the bar, deflated at the thought of his family. He suppressed a shudder. Unfortunately for him, Star Killer had spotted this rather abrupt change in mood and removed his hand. 

 

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked.

 

“No,” Ren ground out. “It’s nothing.” 

 

Star Killer eyed him but let it drop, instead flopping backwards onto the sofa, arms askew. He ran a slender hand through his hair, before lifting his legs and quite unceremoniously dropping them into Ren’s lap. Ren’s whole body tensed; Star Killer seemed oblivious as he flexed his feet before crossing his legs, his heel resting dangerously close to Ren’s groin. The blood that had left his dick quickly returned. Ren tried to ignore the urge to leap upon his companion and bite the pale skin at his neck, instead trying to work out where to put his hands. He gingerly rested them on Star Killer’s calf, breathing out a tiny sigh when he didn’t react. Star Killer sighed, his eyes drifting shut. A small smile played on his lips. “I like this room.” He murmured.

 

“Hmm,” Ren replied, distinctly more agitated. 

 

“The sofa is nice, and it’s quiet enough. I come here when I need to hide from my adoring fans, or get one closer.” With this he lifted his head and winked at Ren.

 

Ren smiled weakly back. He hated how awkward he felt: this man plucked him so far out of his comfort zone that he was left floundering. Star Killer’s smile faded as he read Ren’s expression. “Come on, where’s that grumpy scowl I saw from the stage? I don’t like this prissiness.” He dug a heel into Ren’s thigh, his foot sliding downwards to press at the soft skin between his legs. Ren flinched. 

 

“Stop that,” Ren grumbled, hands clenching and unclenching around Star Killer’s calf. 

 

Star Killer smirked, uncrossing his legs and pressing both heels into Ren’s thigh, the side of his foot brushing against Ren’s crotch. “No,” he drawled, a shit-eating smile creeping onto his face. He pushed himself up on his elbows, the gown falling to the side and revealing his nipple as he pressed a foot into Ren’s erection. Ren let out a strangled groan, his eyebrows knitted together. “What the fuck are you doing?” He growled, grabbing both of Star Killer’s ankles and immobilising them. 

 

“Ah, there he is.” Star Killer said, his voice dripping with victory. He bent his foot at a tight angle and pressed into Ren’s thigh with his toes, drinking in the view of Ren biting his lip, his head tilting back as the hand slid down to his foot. Star Killer regarded him for a moment, and Ren knew his grip was probably too tight. Star Killer’ body tensed, and he lifted himself up at the waist, the robe falling open completely, exposing the small lacy underpants he’d been wearing onstage. They were markedly tighter than when he’d first revealed them. Ren bit his lip harder, tasting blood. He desperately wanted to touch those rosy nipples. 

 

Star Killer’s expression was wolfish. He yanked at his leg, eyes widening slightly when Ren’s grip did not budge. He changed tact, and instead reached for Ren’s neck, wrapping his arms around it and bringing his face in close. There was a charged moment as they stared at each other, their breaths mingling, before Ren closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Star Killer’s, his heart pounding. Star Killer responded in kind, his mouth opening, allowing Ren’s tongue to explore. 

 

He tasted of moonshine and cigarettes - not wholly pleasant, but nonetheless like a drug to Ren, who felt his erection harden ever more as Star Killer’s hands slid through his curls. Ren released one of his ankles to caress Star Killer’s neck, and Star Killer immediately pressed his foot to Ren’s groin, stroking his erection with surprising dexterity. Ren groaned into Star Killer’s mouth, blood pounding in his ears as his breath caught. He bit thelower lip, moving off to trail across Star Killer’s ear. He licked around the shell of his ear and gently bit at the cartilage, loving the tiny gasps as he drew a trail downwards from his ear and across his pulse. He sucked at the soft skin there, feeling Star Killer’s resulting shudder and the eager press of a foot into his crotch. His hands were getting clammy, his breath coming hot and fast as his hands found Star Killer’s nipples. He brushed over them with his thumbs, watching Star Killer’s hungry eyes slide shut with pleasure. 

 

Star Killer let him explore his nipples for a moment, before he drew his legs away from Ren’s lap and straddled him, knees either side of Ren’s hips. He ground his hips into Ren’s, their grunts coming in unison as their lips found each other again. Ren’s breath was coming hot and fast, the blood pounding through his body as Star Killer drove his dick into Ren’s relentlessly. His head dropped back, a strangled groan ripping from his chest as Star Killer’s hand dropped between them and palmed Ren’s clothed erection hard. 

 

He opened his eyes after a moment, and caught a glimpse of an ugly brown stain on the ceiling. Flicking his eyes past Star Killer, he saw the worn carpet and scuffed, alcohol stained coffee table. This wasn’t what he wanted. 

 

A cruel, husky, familiar voice settled in his mind. _“You are failing, boy. Look where you are.”_

 

Ren could feel himself timidly disputing this, but he knew it was no use. There was no arguing. _“This man is of no consequence. Kill him before he kills you.”_

 

Ren’s breath caught as a cold sweat bloomed across his body. He had to get out. He laid a hand on Star Killer’s chest, and when that didn’t deter him, managed to grunt out a broken “stop.” 

 

Star Killer huffed out a lusty laugh, but did not stop. “Are you joking? You’re not leaving now.” 

 

A wave of self-disgust rolled through Ren and he tensed, reaching into himself to take hold of the Force. Slightly calmer now, he managed to speak with a more even cadence. “Get off me.” 

 

“Stop fucking about and touch me.” Star Killer groaned, his brow pinching together.

 

Ren twitched a hand and Star Killer stilled instantly, frozen in place. His eyes were filled with abject shock as Ren lifted him off his lap with the Force and deposited him onto the sofa next to him, before standing. Ren kept him immobile while he donned his clothes again, pulling his hood up with a scowl. “Don’t follow me,” Ren growled, before he released Star Killer, shoved the curtain aside, and stomped out of the club. 

 

Star Killer slumped into the sofa, his breath shallow in his lungs as he came to terms with what just happened to him. His lips were swollen from kissing, his nipples hard and sensitive, his dick tight under lace as he shuddered, surprise and fear rolling through him. But what shocked and excited him most of all was the deep-seated arousal that had ignited in him when he’d been wrapped in the Force, restricted from moving, completely freed from control. His head flopped back, reeling with the range of filthy possibilities his mind supplied him with, and he laughed to himself, his eyes falling on the damp stain on the ceiling. 

 

There was a rustle of sound near him and Star Killer lifted his head, shooting a murderous look at the attendant who’d stepped into the room to hand him another glass of whiskey. There was a slight whimper and they quickly vacated, the curtain flopping back into place. Star Killer resumed staring at the ceiling, sipping his drink with a satisfied smirk. Oh, this was going to be fun.


	2. Mercuri Harrin

**Chapter 2**

The bright sun had risen over another filthy, noisy, humid day on Coruscant. Dust thrown up from the rush of people and transports hung thick in the air, mixing nauseatingly with the smell of street food and the shouts of people peddling everything imaginable, and more. Ren roughly pushed past a group of Neimoidians who were chattering over some kind of ceramic sculpture, their shrill voices piercing his ears. The Neimoidian closest to him stumbled forward, knocking the item from the others’ hands, and it crashed to the floor. The shopkeeper, a fat Sullustan, emerged and screeched at him, grabbing onto his sleeve with a fat fist. His staccato voice rose in volume and pitch as he worked himself into a spitting rage. He gestured wildly at the broken sculpture, his grip holding firm as Ren tried to yank his arm away. 

 

Ren, thankful for his mask and vocoder, dipped his mind into the shopkeeper’s and plucked the words he needed from his language. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with an argument at the moment, and he didn’t want to make a scene. He hoped this would be short.

 

“How much was it worth?” He asked the Sullustan, trying not to slap at the hand still capturing his sleeve in a tight grip.

 

“More than you can afford,” the creature spat, his large back eyes filled with malice. “That was an antique from my home planet.”

 

“Then go home and get another one,” Ren said, and snatched his arm away. 

 

The Sullustan spluttered, his face darkening with rage as Ren tried to turn, but found his way blocked by one of the Neimodians. Ren sighed. He was hot, tired and his breath felt thick in his mask. “Let me pass,” he demanded, the vocoder cutting his voice and imbuing it with a malice he couldn’t find within himself at the moment. He stood to full height, only slightly larger than the Neimodian, but considerably more broad. The despicable creature withered like a dead flower, and Ren smirked, taking a purposeful step forward, fists clenched at his sides, hovering near his sabre. He ignored the angry cries echoing after him down the street as he continued onwards, irritation bubbling in his stomach. With each day he spent here, he found himself hating the planet even more. _‘Scum, all of them,’_ he thought as he pushed and wove through an endless sea of people. 

 

The heat and thick air did not agree with Ren’s clothing choices, and the sweat rolling steadily down his chest and back soon became unbearable. Thankful he’d had the foresight to forgo his thick overcoat, he was forced to remove his helmet and gloves. His dark curls stuck unpleasantly to his temples, his cheeks flushed, his breathing laboured. It was just _too hot._ He’d grown up on Chandrila, a mild planet with verdant surroundings and fresh air. He was not programmed to deal with hot cloying weather. He could feel his clothes sticking to him, the sweat prickling against his skin in the sun. His mouth felt dry, his eyes scratchy in the dust. He was pretty sure he was going to get sunburnt. 

 

Purely by luck, Ren stumbled across a small square surrounded by tall buildings. It was punctuated by a small, dry fountain and dotted with sun bleached benches. The buildings cut the sun, and half of it was thrown into shade. He slumped onto a shaded bench and pulled off his scarf, shoving it aside with his helmet and flopping backwards, his head lolling back to the wall behind him. The cracked mortar was cool on his skull, and he turned his temple towards it, sighing as he felt some of the heat leech from him. It was quieter here; only a few people scattered across the benches, the main streets being the draw for most. 

 

Ren watched a skinny girl attempt to walk around the curved rim of the fountain, her mother peeling some fruit in the shade. Halfway around, she lost her balance and toppled off, landing hard on the dusty ground and scraping her knees. To Ren’s mild surprise, instead of crying to her mother, she simply stood, wiped at the blood trickling down her leg, and hopped back onto the fountain. The light in the square dimmed, and she and Ren looked up for a moment, noting the wispy cloud that had obscured the sun for just a moment. The girl went to her mother and pointed, and she handed her a peeled jogan fruit and led her away. 

 

Ren let his head fall back again, closing his eyes against the blistering heat which he could not escape, even in the shade. His body felt sluggish, his limbs heavy, his mouth sticky, his mind slowed, and he noted absently that he probably should have been drinking more water. He slipped into a heady doze, the echoes of the main street and the smell of dust bleeding together in his mind, wrapping him tightly in a thick malaise. 

 

He dreamed of walking through empty streets, his steps throwing up dust which never fell, his breathing loud in his ears as the world tilted before him. Lifting an arm, he bent the air, and the dust swirled and danced, forming faces and shapes he felt he knew, but they never lingered long enough for him to really see. The air grew thicker, the dust clouding his eyes and face, and soon it was in his lungs, his exhales great plumes of orange powder which boiled and crashed like waves against the deserted buildings. His steps grew in size, dislodging more and more dust until he was wading in it, thick against his legs, forcing him back. He stepped into a crossroad and was buffeted by a strong, hot wind which whipped his face and made his eyes water. He was waist deep in orange dust, the wind buffeting him blindly and stealing his breath, and his lungs burned, his eyes burned, his skin burned-

 

Ren was jolted awake by a hand on his shoulder. Bright light stung his eyes and he jerked, cracking his head hard against the wall with a yelp. Cradling his head with one of his large hands, he squinted up at his assailant. He was presented with a very familiar crop of red hair and bright green eyes. 

 

“Fancy finding you snoring in a square,” Star Killer said. 

 

Ren grunted, blinking in the sunlight. The sun had moved, and he was no longer ensconced in shade. “Didn’t intend to fall asleep,” he said, his voice croaky. His head was pounding and he felt strangely nauseous. 

 

Star Killer sat down next to him, putting a bag of what looked like groceries down by his feet. “What are you doing here?”

 

Ren let his head fall back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut against the light. “Nothing.” 

 

There was a pause as Star Killer took in this information, studying him strangely. “If you’re doing nothing, why are you armed?” He said, gesturing to the hilt of the lightsaber which was poking out of Ren’s tunic. “What kind of a weapon is that? It’s certainly not a gun.” 

 

Ren tucked it back into his clothes and gave Star Killer a warning look. He knew the effect was dampened by his likely sweaty face and burnt nose, but Star Killer seemed to judge the situation not worth it and didn’t pry any more. Instead, he leaned down to his bag and plucked out a plum, before leaning back and taking a bite. Plum juice rolled down Star Killer’s chin in little rivulets and covered his hands, but he didn’t seem to care. The cloying, sweet smell of ripe fruit filled Ren’s nostrils and made his stomach flop uncomfortably. He wanted to stand, to walk away from this strange situation and this strange man, but he could neither find the motivation nor the strength in his limbs to make the long walk back to his ugly little room. Instead, he sat and watched Star Killer methodically eat. When he was finished, he flicked the stone across the square and pulled out a handkerchief, patting the juice off his face and hands. 

 

“I dislike plums.” Star Killer said after a time. 

 

“Didn’t you just eat one?” Ren croaked. 

 

“Hmm.” Star Killer looked across to him, seeming to take him in properly for the first time. “Are you alright? You’re pale… well, apart from the sunburn.” 

 

“Sunburn?” Ren echoed, lifting a hand to touch his face. It was trembling slightly. 

 

“Yes, across here-“ Star Killer said, drawing an invisible line from one cheek, over his nose, and across the other. 

 

“Great,” Ren grumbled, letting his hand fall back onto his lap. He tilted his head to the sky, silently cursing the sun and trying to ignore the growing urgency of his nausea.

 

“It’s endearing, in a way,” Star Killer drawled, peering at Ren’s face. “It brings out the freckles over your nose.” 

 

“Do I look like I want to be _endearing?”_ Ren growled back, regretting how he’d snapped his head towards him. An unpleasant roll of nausea made him clench his hands. 

 

Star Killer simply held his gaze, one eyebrow quirked. “You just got even paler.”

 

“I have a headache.” Ren mumbled, swallowing around the dry lump in his throat. “I don’t suppose you have any water?” 

 

“No. Though my house is a street away. I can brew you some tea.” 

 

Ren nodded stiffly, no longer trusting himself to speak. He felt light headed, but was loathe to reveal his weakness to anyone, let alone a Coruscant stripper. Scooping up his helmet, gloves and scarf, he braced himself against the bench, took a deep breath, and stood up. 

 

He did not remain upright. The world tilted alarmingly around him and he crumpled to his knees, head swimming, limbs tingling. Nausea rolled through him and he felt his body convulse, forcing the little he’d eaten that day out onto the dusty floor. There was a strange, lucid moment when he watched his vomit sink into the dust, before the world went grey and his head hit the ground. 

 

—

 

The first sensation which Ren was greeted with was coolness. Blissful, still coolness which caressed his burnt skin and filled his lungs with comfort. He lay for a while, just breathing, floating in crisp, refreshing darkness. It reminded him of tall trees, the fresh breeze. The rustle of leaves. The sound of his father’s laughter.

 

A pang of longing shot through him at this thought and Ren pulled himself away, lifting himself upwards towards consciousness. With this came pain - an incessant pounding in his skull, aching limbs, a sore face, and a lingering nausea. He frowned, pressing his face further into the pillow. 

 

_‘Pillow?’_

 

Ren opened his eyes, blinking away the vestiges of what felt like a not-so-voluntary sleep. His brain felt sluggish and the room swam slightly before him. He was lying in a bed, lightly covered by a polycotton sheet. A curtained window shone a soft light onto his face. Ren swallowed dryly and attempted to push himself up, surprised at how difficult he found this. His arms trembled and collapsed, and he ended up slumped against the wall, half sitting. He blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. His eyes slid shut as a wave of exhaustion rolled through him. 

 

“You owe me big time.” 

 

Ren sluggishly opened his eyes again to see Star Killer entering the room, carrying a tall glass of water, a tube of ointment and a couple of capsules. “Mm?” He grumbled, wincing at the pain in his head which intensified when he spoke.

 

“Do you remember what happened?” Star Killer said, depositing the items onto a little bedside table and sitting on the side of the bed. 

 

Ren carefully shook his head, eyebrows pinched. “I… I fell.” He eventually said. 

 

Star Killer scoffed. “You did more than fall. You vomited all over the floor and then fainted. Nearly into the vomit, I might add. Do you know how impossibly large you are? And how do you not know that sleeping in the sun will give you sunstroke?” 

 

“I didn’t _mean_ to sleep in the sun,” Ren ground out, jaw tight. 

 

“Well, either way, you passed out. I had to get two passersby to help me carry you to my house. You have _no idea_ how embarrassing that was.” 

 

It took a moment for this to sink in. “You _carried_ me?” 

 

“Well, you certainly didn’t walk, and I wasn’t about to drag you along the street like the world’s worst vegetable cart.” 

 

Ren blinked slowly. “How long have I been asleep?” 

 

Star Killer glanced at a chronometer strapped to his wrist. “You lost consciousness 45 minutes ago, but I suspect you’ve been sleeping for at least 30 of those minutes.” He reached for the glass of water and pressed it into Ren’s hand, watching him take a shaky sip. He handed over the tablets, feigning disinterest when the sheet pooled at Ren’s waist as he eased himself up, revealing his broad torso. 

 

Glancing down, Ren spotted the extent of his nakedness. “Oh.” 

 

“You were bathed in sweat and they all stank. Do you ever wash your clothes? I’ve given them to the laundromat downstairs. You can go and pick them up yourself.” 

 

Ren nodded absently, sipping at the water. He still felt distinctly weak, and it disturbed him. He could feel his Force was dimmer too, hidden behind thick curtain of debility. He pinched his eyes shut against the pounding in his skull, blinking at the wall in front of him to try and rid his vision of the lingering blurriness. The glass in his hand was righted. 

 

“Pay attention. You’re tipping it,” Star Killer said, reaching for the ointment on the table. “I’ve never seen anyone get sunstroke so badly. Did you grow up on Hoth?” He drawled, squeezing some of the salve onto his fingers. “Look this way, then.”

 

Ren turned his head towards the man sitting on the bed, and flinched when fingers touched his face. He tried to jerk his head away, but Star Killer caught him by the chin, immobilising him. “Stay still, you child.” He snapped, spreading salve across Ren’s cheeks and nose. Ren scowled up at him and Star Killer huffed out a smug laugh. “Serves you right for deciding to take a nice midday nap in direct sunlight.”

 

Ren opened his mouth to retort, his chin working against Star Killer’s tight grip. Star Killer only tightened his fingers, pressing hard into Ren’s jawbone and pushing his cheeks inwards. “Yes, yes, shut up. You didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said. He continued to hold Ren’s face as he gingerly applied more ointment, the careful touch of his fingers a sharp contrast to the vice-like grip keeping his chin immobile. Ren could feel the soft heat in the pads of Star Killer’s fingers even as he squeezed his jaw, the smell of his skin mixing with the fragrance in the salve. Star Killer’s face was close enough that Ren could see the first dustings of a golden beard speckling his cheeks. 

 

“You need to shave,” Ren mumbled around Star Killer’s hand. 

 

“Probably.” 

 

Star Killer let go of Ren’s jaw and leaned back, screwing the lid onto the tube again. “Done. Should be gone by tomorrow.” He stood and gestured to the glass still held loosely in Ren’s hand. “Drink that. I’ll make some tea.” And with that, he left the room.

 

Ren gazed around the room, taking in the space. For a man who saw himself as so much better, his room was surprisingly sparse. Plain, uninspiring furniture filled the room, and the white walls and linens left it feeling bright and airy, a far cry from the club where he made his money. A small embroidered cushion sat on a low stool at the foot of the bed, and sat on the dresser was a battered picture frame with a faded black and white holograph of a beautiful young lady with long, braided hair. His helmet and sabre was next to it.

 

It was verging on _domestic,_ were it not for the satin thong and bra hanging off the wardrobe doorknob, and the riding crop poking out from under it. Ren wondered if it was just for shows, or if Star Killer felt the desire to use it recreationally. With considerably more effort than he was used to, Ren dipped into the Force and drew the crop towards him. It flew smoothly into his hands, and he turned it over, thumbing the soft leather at the end. He hit his arm experimentally, enjoying the sharp _thwip_ sound as it cut the air. It stung more than he expected and left a small red mark on his pale skin. A voice permeated the silence, pulling Ren from his reverie. 

 

“I just put bacta on your sunburn, and I come back to find you intentionally hurting yourself?” Star Killer said, walking around the bed, two mugs of tea in hand. He handed one to Ren. “Still, you have good taste. That one’s my favourite. It’s got good springback.”

 

“Springback?” Ren asked before thinking.

 

Star Killer snatched the crop from Ren’s hand and pulled, bending it back in a smooth curve. He held it up to show to Ren, before quickly positioning it in front of Ren’s pectorals and letting go. The crop sprang forward with a _snap,_ hitting Ren sharply in the chest. “Aah!” He exclaimed, the sharp sting making the muscle jump. A bright red welt was already beginning to form when Star Killer sat back to admire his handiwork, a smug smile on his face. 

 

“Springback.” Star Killer said, drawing the soft leather across the welt he’d just made. “Good, isn’t it?” 

 

Ren shifted uncomfortably, brushing a thumb gently over the welt. “I suppose so.”

 

The corner of Star Killer’s mouth quirked. “Oh, I can make it worth your while. But,” he said, standing, “not now.” He walked to the wardrobe and pulled it open, the lingerie on the handle swinging gaily. Ren’s mouth dropped open slightly at the sight that greeted him inside. The left side of the wardrobe was filled with little shelves, each one overflowing with lingerie of every description: bras, underpants, suspenders, bodysuits, nightwear and stockings bulged from boxes. Shoes of varying shape and function were neatly lined up along the bottom. The right side held more normal clothes, but Ren saw a flash of deep green feathers and velvet between two shirts, and something distinctly black and shiny peeked out from behind a jumper. The robe he’d seen Star Killer wearing the night before was neatly hung at the front. 

 

Hanging the riding crop onto a hook screwed into the back of the wardrobe, Star Killer pulled one of the boxes from the shelves filled with bras, and another filled with briefs. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a sheer white triangle bra and matching pants. They’d leave nothing to the imagination. Ren pulled up the blanket a little, trying to hide the first signs of arousal pooling in his cock at the thought of him wearing them. 

 

“I’ve got a private function tonight.” Star Killer said conversationally, putting the boxes back in the wardrobe and pulling out two more. After a moment of digging through, he held two white suspender belts up to Ren. “Which one goes better? The set didn’t feature suspenders, unfortunately.” 

 

Ren blinked at Star Killer, the incessant pounding in his head making his thoughts sluggish. Was he seriously asking him for lingerie fashion advice? Star Killer frowned, jerking the suspender belts towards him. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.” 

 

“Uh, the left one.” Ren mumbled, watching as his chosen belt flew through the air and landed with the rest of tonight’s outfit. Star Killer made a small sound of triumph and pulled out his final addition - a pair of sheer thigh high stockings. He scooped up his outfit and folded it over his arm, then looked at Ren expectantly. “I need to get ready. Out of the bed. Out of the room. Take your tea,” he said, gesturing to the mug, “and kindly kriff off somewhere else.” 

 

Ren swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the soft rug under his feet press into his toes. He gently stood, feeling as wobbly as a newborn colt as he took his tea and made his slow way out of the room. Star Killer sighed. “I’d have kicked you onto the street if I didn’t think you’d end up fainting in a ditch and being sold into the slave rings.” 

 

Ren held onto the doorway, turning back to Star Killer, who wasn’t hiding the fact that he was eyeing Ren’s dick, the shape clearly visible under his tight black underpants. “I can look after myself.” 

 

“Yes. You proved that today.” Star Killer said, waving Ren off. Ren made his slow way to the kitchen, head still pounding, stomach unsettled. The capsules that he’d taken had definitely helped, but he still felt distinctly unwell. He hated how his body had betrayed him so, yet a small part remained thanking the stars that he’d been given the chance to see Star Killer again after what he’d pulled. 

 

The kitchen was much like the rest of the house: light, airy, and surprisingly domestic. Ren sipped his tea, finding it was settling his stomach admirably. By the time Star Killer appeared, he was back to feeling half-way human. Well, until he saw Star Killer, who’d sauntered in wearing the lingerie he’d picked out. Ren’s mouth dropped open slightly at the display in front of him. Star Killer’s slight frame was sporting the delicate, sheer bra as if it was made for him, his nipples just visible and poking through the thin material that was otherwise flush against his chest. His ginger happy trail, starting under his navel and widening as it merged into his pubic hair was barely interrupted by the fabric, which gave a filthy, full frontal view of his dick under the sheer lace. The suspenders held up delicate, nearly invisible stockings with beautiful lace garters, which stopped just at the tops of his thighs. Ren’s dick, already hard, became even more uncomfortable as Star Killer made a beeline towards the counter, revealing his small, perfectly formed backside through the fabric. Star Killer turned, leaning against it, his buttocks pressed against the edge, palms either side. “Do you want anything? I’ve got som-” 

 

The rest of this sentence was cut off as Ren surged upwards, headache and dizziness forgotten, closing in on Star Killer and pressing his lips to his. He felt fingers wind their way through his hair as he deepened the kiss, all concerns from last night disregarded. Star Killer’s tongue slid across his, their teeth clacking together in their urgency. Ren’s hands were wandering Star Killer’s torso, broad palms sliding up his back, over his shoulders, thumbs brushing the soft space behind his ears and making him gasp. Ren broke the kiss, enjoying the sight of Star Killer’s flushed cheeks and wet lips, before he shoved him up onto the kitchen surface and stepped between his open legs. He pushed Star Killer backwards until his shoulders touched the wall, giving him access to his chest. He began at Star Killer’s ear and drew a trail down his neck and over his collarbone, sucking and nipping, enjoying the little reactive gasps and jerks that Star Killer seemed unable to keep at bay. He reached Star Killer’s nipples, hard through the sheer lace, and flattened his tongue over one, broadly licking upwards. He lapped and sucked at the pink bud until the fabric was soaked and Star Killer was breathing hard, before moving on to the other and giving it the same treatment. 

 

He could feel Star Killer’s long, slender fingers roaming his own chest, tracing the curve of his broad pecs and brushing fingers over his nipples. Deciding that Star Killer’s nipples were debauched enough, he grabbed him by the hips and pulled him closer. Star Killer wrapped his legs around Ren’s waist, his eyes full of wanton desire as he rolled his hips into Ren’s and made him groan. Star Killer’s erection, visible through the sheer lace, was straining against the fabric, the head of his cock poking up out of the waistband. The image of it rubbing up against Ren’s straining erection, the lace pulling with the friction, a bead of precome welling up at the tip was almost too much for Ren. There was a darkened streak on his own underpants where he’d been grinding up against Star Killer’s dick, and he dipped in and pulled out his straining cock. Star Killer’s eyes widened at the sight of it. 

 

“I guessed you were big, but…” he breathed, his expression a mix of fascination and lust, but streaked with a healthy dose of apprehension. Ren smirked, giving the penis in question a few cursory pumps before he reached for Star Killer’s. He wrapped his fingers around it, enjoying the feel of it in his hands, and began to move, alternating between quick jerks and long, twisting slides. 

 

Star Killer’s forehead fell forwards onto Ren’s shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He reached between them and took ahold of Ren’s cock, marvelling at it’s girth as he jerked Ren off, trying to match Ren’s rhythm. A hot, wet tongue suddenly found his neck and he let out a keening moan, the fingers on his free hand skittering across Ren’s back. His rhythm faltered slightly, and Ren took both of their cocks into his big hand, both of them groaning as the new sensation of each other’s erections was added to the mix. Star Killer wrapped his legs tighter around Ren’s back and began to urgently thrust up into Ren’s hand, his face and chest flushed, breath ragged. 

 

Ren could tell Star Killer was close, and he continued to lick and suck his neck, relishing in the little intakes of breath and moans he was drawing out from him. He began to thrust into his hand, changing his wrist action to include a wicked upwards twisting motion which made him see stars. Star Killer’s knees were trembling around his hips, his breath coming in hot gasps against Ren’s shoulder. “I’m,” he groaned, his voice rough, “I’m-“

 

Ren tightened his grip, thumbing over Star Killer’s slick head and pumped, and Star Killer came hard, a ragged cry torn from his throat as thick ribbons of cum spurted between them. Ren did not stop, instead bringing himself to completion with a low moan, pumping through their orgasms until they were nothing but sweaty, twitching masses. They remained interlocked, using each other as a support, bathing in the afterglow, until Star Killer pressed a hand to Ren’s damp chest and pushed him away. 

 

“I have a private function,” he said, and slid off the countertop and tucking himself into his debauched underpants before grabbing a cloth and wiping himself and Ren off. 

 

Ren frowned at him. “You’re not going to change?”

 

Star Killer smiled wickedly. “No, why would I do that?” He sauntered to the hallway and reached for a large greatcoat which he slung over himself, covering his modesty. “Get dressed. I need a bodyguard.”

 

“What?” Ren said, blank. 

 

Star Killer sighed. “Don’t make me repeat myself. I need somebody suitably large and imposing to accompany me, and I don’t want to use that great oaf of a Trandoshan again. Are you coming?”

 

“Wait,” spluttered Ren, but it fell on deaf ears as Star Killer tapped his foot.

 

“Hurry _up._ ” 

 

—

 

Star Killer led Ren through winding streets and dark alleys until they stepped out onto a street which was noticeably wider and more opulent, lined with expensive looking shops. Ren gazed about, the lights from the brightly lit window displays glancing off other peoples’ faces. With dusk had come a cool breeze, and the upper echelons of society had emerged from their perfectly temperature regulated apartments. 

 

“This is the upper fashion quarter.” Star Killer said, taking Ren by the wrist and pulling him closer. He gestured to an expensive looking chromed speeder parked in front of a shop. “That’s Senator Trya’s daughter. She’s probably buying a gown for the State Gala next week.” 

 

Ren nodded blithely, more interested in the speeder than politics. But he let Star Killer pull him along, pointing out tidbits of high society life. Eventually, Ren got curious. “How do you know all this? You aren’t a member of the gentry.” 

 

“I’m an exotic dancer and private escort. I’m not cheap. I’m good at what I do. And I have patrons in high places. You’ll meet one tonight.” Star Killer flashed him a wry smile before tugging Ren forward. “Before we go there, however, we need to pick up something.” 

 

Ren frowned when Star Killer stopped in front of a boutique. “From here?” 

 

Instead of replying, Star Killer just stepped forward, ushering Ren in. The carpeted floor was plush under his feet as they entered, the noises of the street immediately cut off when the door slid shut behind them. A slender Faleen female stepped towards them, inclining her head in greeting. “Sirs,” she said, her voice a slithering lilt which slid across Ren’s skin. 

 

Star Killer spoke up. “My friend here needs some new clothes, as you can see.” He ignored the sharp look Ren gave him. “I’d like a closely fitting black tunic and trousers.” 

 

The Faleen nodded, guiding the pair to the back of the shop. Star Killer sat and watched Ren grumpily shuck his clothes and lift his arms when his measurements were taken. Ren didn’t miss the appraising look Star Killer gave him when he was only in his underclothes. The Faleen whisked off, leaving the two alone, Ren still semi-naked. He could see Star Killer in the mirror, and was watching him study the moles on his back. Star Killer let out a long breath.   
  
“You’d suit a thong.” 

 

Ren started, his head flicking around to meet Star Killer’s eyes. “What?” He spluttered. 

 

“Simple. Black mesh.” He nodded to himself, humming. 

 

Ren turned back to the mirror, his cheeks flushed. Luckily he was saved from embarrassment further, as the Faleen returned with a selection of black clothing over her arm. 

 

A short time later they had settled on a tightly fitted black top made of a soft, stretchy cloth, and a pair of trousers which Ren suspected was made of Bantha hide. They fit closely, tight around his thighs and buttocks, but the leather was soft against his skin. Star Killer nodded when he’d pulled the shirt over his head. “Excellent. We’ll take these. Put them on Senator Harrin’s account, would you?” 

 

Ren’s stomach dropped, his mind whirling. _‘Senator Harrin?’_ Was it really going to be _this_ easy? He couldn’t believe his luck. _‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’_ he inwardly berated. _‘You have no idea what you’re getting into.’_

 

The Faleen nodded, a slight smile on her lips. “Will that be all?” 

 

“It will. Come on, we’re leaving,” Star Killer said to Ren, who took the bag with his old clothes that was proffered to him and hurried after the rapidly disappearing redhead. Ren stepped out into the bustling night again, striding towards Star Killer. He drew level with him again and Star Killer tookhold of his wrist as before, pointing out little observations and political gossip fodder as they walked. Eventually he drew them to a stop outside of a tall, grandiose tower of apartments. “We’re a little late,” Star Killer drawled, “but then everybody is late to parties like this.” 

 

They crossed the threshold, Star Killer shrugging off his coat to reveal the lingerie beneath it. He handed it to the slightly dumbfounded doorman, before motioning for Ren to step into a transparisteel turbolift. He keyed in a code and the doors slid shut, shooting them upwards. A view of the bustling, neon-lit Coruscant skyline flashed at them as they cleared the other buildings. Ren had to admit, even a planet he hated so deeply as here could be beautiful sometimes. The lift slid to a smooth stop and the doors opened into a dimly lit, decadent hallway. A young, very beautiful woman stepped forward to greet them. 

 

“Star Killer,” she said, before glancing at Ren. “And this is?”

 

“My security for the evening.” Star Killer said, ducking into the view of a mirror to check the state of his hair. 

 

The girl paused. “There is no need for a security detail. You are quite sa-“

 

“And yet, I choose one anyway. Come along; let’s not dally.” 

 

They stepped forward together and stood before a large set of double doors which slowly swung open for them, bathing them in a golden light and a strong smell of incense. Star Killer leaned into Ren. “Stay close to me. Make sure nobody oversteps their boundaries. Don’t get into political conversation. Don’t drink anything I don’t give you. You will take my drinks orders; see to it that you watch it poured and deliver it to me yourself. I will call you if I need you- actually, that’s a point. What is your name?” 

 

Ren swallowed. “Ren.” 

 

“Hux. Welcome to Coruscant high society, Ren.”

 

Hux stepped forward into the throng of elegantly dressed people milling about a richly decorated room. All eyes immediately fell on him and the conversation dimmed. Hux seemed to know where he was going, and he made a beeline for the back of the room, Ren following closely behind. The theme of the evening seemed to be white; the guests were all dressed in pale colours, which made Ren’s tight black clothes and hair stand out like a beacon. Ren tried to ignore the indignant stares he was drawing from some of the guests. Hux had obviously planned this, judging by his barely concealed smile.

 

Hux, reaching the back of the room, stopped in front of a group of people lounging on a sofa. A portly, ruddy faced man currently flanked by two Togrutans wearing little more than string grinned when they approached. “Star Killer,” he said, his voice a low, knowing grumble which Ren found slightly unnerving. “Glad you could make it.” 

 

“Senator,” Hux said, slotting himself next to the man and crossing his legs. “I’m only an hour late. I like to make an entrance, and my bodyguard here needed some appropriate attire.”

 

The man chuckled, slinging an arm over Hux’s shoulder. “Are you out spending my money again?” 

 

“Only a little bit,” Hux drawled. He’d altered his voice, dropping the pitch slightly and speaking more breathily. It was odd; Ren was used to Hux’s clipped rudeness. 

 

Hux placed a slender hand on Senator Harrin’s knee, his fingers rubbing small circles. Glancing up at Ren, he jerked his head towards the sofa. Ren took this to mean he was to sit. He eyed Harrin. This person was obviously not his target, and Ren felt a slight stab of disappointment despite his lack of surprise. _‘This just means more time spent on this infernal planet,’_ he grouched, hiding a sigh, _‘and I’m not exactly in the position to go asking questions about his lineage.’_

 

The sofa was soft, the creamy leather smooth against his palms as he sat back against it. Hux pressed a foot against Ren’s ankle, flashing him a wry smile, before he leaned back into Senator Harrin’s chest. Ren watched Harrin’s hand creep lower over Hux’s shoulder and down his arm, coming to rest at chest height, his fingers centimetres away from Hux’s nipple. Hux paid him no mind, instead preferring to chat to the Togrutans also sharing the sofa. However, when Harrin’s finger stretched forward and brushed across the mesh of his bra, Hux jerked his arm, his focus still firmly on the Togrutans. Harrin’s hand shot back. Hux glanced at Ren, raising his eyebrows as if to say _‘this is the kind of thing I meant.’_ Ren nodded minutely.

 

Senator Harrin spoke up. “I’d like a drink. Would your man here,” he said, gesturing lazily to Ren, “get us all a bottle of the Agardi?” 

 

Ren glanced to Hux, who pointed towards the bar across the room. “Be quick,” he drawled, leaning into Harrin, but his eyes were sharp. Ren nodded silently and stood. He pushed himself through the crowd of guests, noting the amount of faces he recognised, both political and celebrity. He’d stepped back into the world he thought he’d left with his mother, and Ren vainly found himself hoping that nobody recognised him. Though it wasn’t common knowledge that General Organa had a son, as a child he’d attended his fair share of private high society functions. 

 

The Agardi turned out to be a sparkling wine. Ren, feeling more than slightly foolish, brought back the ornate silver tray he’d been given, which was laden with the bottle, a cooler, and 5 glasses. He returned to Hux and the group, placing it down onto the table opposite them and sitting back down. Hux immediately leaned forward and proceeded to pour Harrin, the Togrutans and himself a glass. He poured a half for Ren. Lifting it, he spoke, a sensual smile on his lips. “To Senator Harrin,” he said. “May your fortune and future be always successful.” They all drank. The wine was light and dry, pleasant across Ren’s tongue. He watched as Hux trailed his fingers down Harrin’s arm, leisurely sipping from his glass. He crossed one leg over the other. It was odd to see Hux do this. He was all too aware of Hux’s true cold nature, and was mildly entertained by the level at which Hux seemed to be able to turn the charm on and off so efficiently when money was involved.

 

They continued to sit with Harrin and the Togrutans, Ren drifting between listening to their conversation and watching the other partygoers make small talk and steal glances at the group on the sofa. The colour on Harrin’s cheekbones had deepened with the wine. After a moment of consideration, Ren touched upon Harrin’s mind, intending to use his drunkenness to sift through his memories and draw a lead as to where Samira Harrin slotted into all of this. However, Ren was surprised to find it closely guarded. Harrin’s speech faltered mid-sentence and he looked towards Ren. His stomach dropped.

 

Harrin quirked his lip, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You didn’t tell me your companion was a Force user,” he said to Hux, his grip on his knee tightening. Hux’s head darted towards Ren, a sharp, admonishing look on his face, before he turned back to Harrin. His features immediately softened.

 

“Is he? I wasn’t aware, Senator. After all, I am as aptly put by your own words, ‘less Force sensitive than a pebble.’” Hux leaned into him again blocking Ren from the Senator’s view and sliding a hand down his chest. 

 

The Senator’s smile was sickly. “You know I don’t care for Force users.” 

 

“But you’ll admit that having one around is useful,” Hux drawled. He reached out and pressed a hand to Ren’s shoulder. Ren could feel his fingers palpating the muscle under his shirt. He felt himself flush a little but quickly tamped it down under an annoyed expression, yanking his arm away. Hux frowned at him, but let go. “He’s got a bit of a temper, as you can see.” Hux said. “But that’s how I like them.” He winked at Ren before leaning back into the Senator, who looked mildly jealous. 

 

For the first time that evening, Senator Harrin addressed Ren. “So what’s a Force user doing guarding a high society slut?” 

 

Ren frowned. “A what?” 

 

Harrin smiled, sliding his hand down Hux’s thigh, his fingers tugging at he top of his garter. Hux’s expression had darkened, but he continued to lean on him anyway. His leg twitched, but Harrin didn’t stop. “A slut,” he continued. “A whore. A high society call-boy who drains my bank account and takes his clothes off for every senator worth over a million credits, no matter who they are.” 

 

Harrin’s hand had slid under Hux’s garter and into his stocking. Hux shifted, pulling away, but Harrin caught him by the arm, his nails pressing tightly into Hux’s skin. One glance from Hux was all Ren needed. He twitched his hand and Harrin’s arm was immediately immobilised, caught still in Ren’s Force grip. Hux quickly extricated himself, gracefully standing and adjusting his garter. “It’s been a pleasure as always, Senator.” Hux drawled, before he sauntered off into the crowd.

 

Ren stood, releasing Harrin. The two Togrutans were silent, eyeing Ren fearfully. Harrin boiled with rage. “How dare you,” he spluttered, his hands balling into fists. “How da-“

 

Ren didn’t allow him to finish. Instead he turned on his heel and followed after the rapidly vanishing form of Hux. He caught him at the bar. Hux’s arm was already beginning to bruise, five circles of purple blooming over his pale skin.

 

“Well, that went well,” Hux said as Ren joined him. 

 

“What was that?” Ren asked, eyeing the man on the sofa, still spitting with rage. 

 

“He was punishing me for bringing you. What the hell did you do to make him notice you were a Force user?” 

 

Ren bit his lip. “I tried to read his mind. I didn’t know he was Force sensitive - he hides it very well.” 

 

Hux paled. “You can read minds?” 

 

“Only if I look. Though, some people… project, a little bit. You do.”

 

Hux took a large gulp of the drink which had just been placed in front of him. “I project?” 

 

“A bit. When you’re experiencing a strong emotion. Or aroused. I can feel it. Like back there when he called you a whore, I could feel how much you hated him.” 

 

“I’d rather fuck a rancor. I hate his guts. I hate most of them, to be honest.” Hux took another swig of his drink. 

 

Ren paused, considering. “Do you actually fuc-“

 

Hux grimaced. “Kriff, no. I’m a stripper, not a dustbin. Even I have my boundaries.” Hux smirked. “Well, unless they’re particularly good looking.” He didn’t give Ren the chance to enquire further, instead pushing himself away from the bar. He stood in front of Ren. “How do I look?” 

 

Ren inhaled. _Disastrous. Mysterious. Vulnerable. Stunning._

 

“Good.” He said. 

 

“Just good?” Hux replied flatly. “Oh well. Better get on with what I’m actually here for. You’ve got to please the crowds, even if your employer is still so angry he’s dribbling. Luckily I demand pay in advance. Stay here - you’ll get a good view.” 

 

Hux turned and walked off, his hips swinging languidly as he made his way through the room. He nodded to a servant, and they both slipped behind a curtain. There were a few minutes of nothing - Ren plucked a glass from a tray as a servant passed him, sipping the light wine and surveying the crowd. Harrin seemed to have got over his injustice and was now bothering some other unsuspecting guest. Ren was all too aware that he was attracting some unwanted attention, being the black clad loner at the bar. He hoped Hux would emerge soon to do whatever it was he did, lest somebody come to try and make conversation. 

 

The lights in the room changed, dimming apart from a circle in the middle. The guests all seemed to know what was about to happen and they parted, allowing two servants to hang a long, thick rope of silken fabric from a hook in the ceiling. Hux followed close behind, immediately taking hold of the rope and winding it tightly around his wrist. He pulled it taught before deftly climbing it, pulling up the slack and wrapping it around his leg and waist. 

 

One of the violinists in the orchestra began to play, and Hux twisted, using the rope to perform gravity defying acrobatics, his back and legs flexing as he tumbled and turned around the rope. It was elegant and entrancing, the rope winding and unwinding around Hux’s body as he contorted himself. Hux had been right; Ren had a perfect view of Hux’s lithe body from the bar. He watched as Hux wound the rope tightly around his leg and released his hands, bending backwards in a clean arc, but then the rope shifted and Ren felt a spike of fear from him, quickly tamped down. He carried on the bend, his thighs tight to hold the rope, but it slipped again, and this time there was no saving.

 

In a split second, Hux went from gracefully turning above peoples’ heads to freefall. The silken rope unravelled itself with a _swish,_ and Hux, unable to reach the rope in time, slipped free of it and plunged downwards. The surge of terror radiating from Hux this time was unmistakeable. The audience shouted, some surging forward, others back. The rope brushed past Hux’s outstretched fingers and he clenched around nothing, falling head first towards the ground-

 

Until he wasn’t. Suspended in midair, the rope swinging behind him, the tips of his hair brushing the ground, Hux had stopped. His breath coming in short gasps, Hux’s eyes flicked to Ren, who was halfway off the bar, his arm outstretched. He’d caught Hux in a Force grip just before he struck the ground. Now, Ren gently manoeuvred him so that he was parallel with the carpet, before allowing him to fall the last few inches. 

 

Hux took a moment to take in the shock of what had just transpired. The crowd of people around him closed in, and Hux felt hands and saw faces, heard voices of none he recognised. A middle aged woman with perfectly coiffed hair was crouched over him, her chubby hand on his face. She cooed at him, ignoring his growls to “ _kriff off”,_ until Ren shoved her aside. He held out a hand and Hux took it. He was roughly pulled up, bundled out of the crowd and frog marched to the entrance lobby. As soon as the doors shut behind them and they were once again alone in the dim hallway, Ren released him. 

 

Hux held out his hand towards the girl who’d taken his coat before. It was quickly given to him, and he shrugged it on and wrapped it around himself, before turning on his heel and stepping into the turbolift. Ren scurried after him, hopping in just before the doors slid shut. 

 

They were quiet as the transparisteel box descended, but Ren was no fool. For all of Hux’s nonchalant, proud expression, he was unable to entirely hide the tremor in his hands. Ren eventually broke the silence. “Are you hurt?” 

 

“I’m fine. Just took me by surprise.” There was another pause as the lift came to a stop and they stepped out, crossed the lobby and rejoined the street. Instead of walking, Hux stuck a thumb out. A transport stopped almost immediately, and they climbed in. As the transport ascended Hux reached out and placed a slightly trembling hand over Ren’s. 

 

“Thank you,” Hux said, his voice almost a whisper. 

 

There was a long, quiet pause. Hux didn’t move his hand, nor did it stop shaking. Eventually, Ren intertwined his fingers with Hux’s.

 

“Does he always do that to you?” Ren asked tentatively, afraid to break this strange moment.

 

“Not quite to that extent. He’s usually slightly less… overt with his insults. And he knows I’m liable to slip on that rope; that’s why he picked the fabric. I fell once before and broke my wrist. He paid for my treatment, and loved every second of it.” Hux’s smirk was forced. “I wish I could tell him what I really think of him, but he’s by far my most powerful client.” 

 

“How so?” Ren asked, watching the neon city lights flicker across Hux’s face. 

 

“My clients range from gang bosses to princesses. I tread a fine line between opposing forces, only able to maintain my neutrality through the trading of secrets, the withholding of information and occasionally coercion. But Senator Mercuri Harrin is the child of a long, long line of politicians and money. His grandmother is Samira Harrin, chair of the High Senate. Her grandson is a lapdog, a puppet to some of the most powerful figureheads in the galaxy. He’s manipulative, ruthless and intelligent, and he holds a grudge.” Hux chuckled. “I’m incredibly jealous.” 

 

Ren filed away this information, the back of his mind whirring as he tried to think. ‘ _How the kriff am I going to get to the most guarded woman in the quadrant?’,_ he inwardly cried, scowling. _‘And why the hell does Snoke want her dead?’_

 

Noting that Hux was looking at him strangely, he searched for something to say. “Having powerful parents isn’t all its cracked up to be.” 

 

Hux laughed. “As if you know. Don’t play like you’re the legendary son of General Organa.” 

 

Ren flinched and swallowed a cough. “I’ve been to my fair share of society parties,” he ground out. He was sincerely glad the transport was dark. Hux thankfully seemed none the wiser. 

 

“My mother was a kitchen maid,” Hux went on conversationally. “I’m the bastard son of a mid-level First Order commander. I had a very glamorous upbringing, as you can imagine. I enjoyed scandalising my father by taking my clothes off for money in the Academy. Shame it got me expelled. I had a rather rare talent for weaponry design.”

 

Ren blinked at him. “You got expelled from your academy?”

 

Hux hummed, gazing out of the window. “It’s a conversation starter. Gossip flies among the upper classes. They like that I’m… fallen from grace _._ ”

 

The transport slowed, descending from the stream of traffic to touch down. Hux handed a credit chip to the droid in the pilot seat and stepped out, Ren following. They were back at Hux’s apartment. Hux pressed his fingers to the entrance pad by the door. It slid open for him, and he turned back to Ren. 

 

“I’ll be using you as a bodyguard again, Ren. So don’t vanish off without telling me first, alright?” 

 

Something lurched in Ren’s stomach and he swallowed, nodding. Hux gave him a tiny smile, and suddenly it was too difficult to look at his face. 

 

Ren turned away, intending to melt back into the streets. To vanish into the shadows and never see or hear about Star Killer again, sod the target. A slender hand caught his wrist instead. 

 

The heat of Hux’s skin seemed to radiate up his arm. He looked back at the thin man, his orange hair lit strangely by neon signs and the secondhand glow of transport headlights, and found himself stepping closer. Hux’s lips were soft, the kiss tentative and gentle, all too long and not long enough. Ren felt a small exhale against his cheek as Hux pulled away, releasing him. Without another word, he stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. 

 

Ren was left with a deep seated anguish knotting his stomach. He scowled at the durasteel door, his hands curling into tight fists. Resisting the urge to punch a wall, he stomped away, his hair blowing around his face. 

 

Only when he got back to his own dingy room and slumped onto the bed did he realise he’d left his helmet and saber in Hux’s bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is up! yay! 
> 
> There's probably going to be more of a delay for the next one. I write slower than a glacier.   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Please leave a comment!


	3. The 64th Annual State Gala

  


**Chapter 3**

  


Ren didn’t hear or see anything of Star Killer the next day. He quickly realised he had no way of contacting him past turning up at the strip club, and deeply missing his helmet and the security of his lightsaber he’d resolved to go that night. He’d also got no closer to the Harrin family alone, much to his chagrin.

  


He peered at his face in the grimy mirror over the sink in his refresher. His sunburn was peeling unevenly and left a strange stripe of tanned skin across his nose which darkened his freckles. His hatred for Coruscant grew exponentially with every new blemish he found. Pulling his cowl over his shoulders, he stomped away from his ugly little room, dropping a new layer of befuddlement on the attendant at the desk. He knew he was being too heavy handed with her; she’d started to slur in the past few days, her gaze glassy, but he found himself caring little. As a boy, he’d been lectured on the vast risks of manipulating another’s mind: how it could bring on memory loss, confusion and even strokes, but Ren had always found himself adept at it, able to carefully pull the strings in another’s head to retrieve what he wanted. However, this didn’t mean he always went to the effort. He gleaned a sort of sick satisfaction in being able to completely erase somebody’s own existence without even breaking a sweat. 

  


The Twi’lek who’d first caught his arm was back on the street again tonight. He tried to avoid her, crossing to the other side, but she spotted him from a mile off, and wove through the crowd to catch him. Her smile was wide and knowing. “Hey there, big boy,” she smiled, ignoring the death glare Ren sent her. “Might not have recognised you without the helmet if you weren’t looking all pretty in this morning’s holojournal.” 

  


It felt like the floor had dropped away from under Ren’s feet. “What?” he said, his voice hollow. 

  


“You were pictured with Star Killer leaving the Senator’s party last night. Nice statement, wearing all black. How’d you get in with him so quickly?” She asked, winking at him. 

  


“I- I was his bodyguard.” Ren said absently, his mind spinning. “Did it say anything about me?” 

  


She smiled again. “Curious, are we? Wait a second.” She turned to another Twi’lek girl in the street, switching deftly to Ryl as she called across the crowd. The girl scurried off, reappearing in a minute with a folded holojournal in her hands. She handed it to the other, who cheerfully thanked her and passed it to Ren.

  


Ren silently took the holojournal, pushing past her as he strode away. He rounded the corner and descended into the club, making a beeline for the back until his route was blocked by the bouncer. 

  


“Hello,” she said, standing to full height. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

  


“Where’s Star Killer?” Ren ground out, clenching the journal in his fist. It crunched menacingly under his grip. 

  


The bouncer looked back at him, unflustered. “In his dressing room.” 

  


“I need to see him,” Ren growled, his rage bubbling close to the surface. ‘Where is he?” 

The bouncer looked at him evenly. “You’re not seeing anyone until you calm down.” 

  


Ren glared at her, inwardly debating whether or not it was worth Force-throwing her, when a voice carried across the room. 

  


“Ren?” 

  


Ren peered over the bouncer’s shoulder, spotting Hux leaning in a doorframe. He wordlessly lifted the holojournal, and Hux sighed. 

  


“Thank you, Phasma. Come on, Ren.” 

  


Phasma stepped aside, giving him a stern look, which Ren reciprocated. He stomped towards Hux, who ushered him into his small dressing room and shut the door. He watched Ren pace angrily for a moment before sitting down at his table, eyeing him. 

  


“It’s really not all that bad, you know. You look quite handsome in it.” Hux said, crossing his legs and turning back to the mirror.

  


All at once, Ren deflated, flopping down onto a sofa in the corner. Breathing out, he took stock of the room. It was small, dimly lit apart from Hux’s dressing table which shone bright with lights and colour. It was well organised: a small selection of bottles and jars sat next to a makeup bag which sat open in front of Hux. The majority of the room was taken up by the sofa Ren was currently seated on. A small wardrobe was tucked behind the door, locked shut. Ren leaned forwards, elbows on knees, and ran his hands through his dark curls. He watched Hux rifle through the makeup bag for a moment, pulling out a small tube of lipstick. Hux glanced at him.

  


“Have you actually read it?” 

  


“No.” 

  


“Well, go on then. You’ve got it right there in your lap.”

  


Ren opened the journal, rifling through the pages until he found a picture of himself trailing behind a slightly shellshocked looking Hux in the gossip column. He looked surly, but there was an underlying note of concern in his eyes. 

  


_High Society escort Star Killer was photographed last night exiting Senator Harrin’s yearly White Party. A firm favourite of the Harrin family, Star Killer is certainly making a statement by leaving without Mercuri. Who is his handsome new companion wearing Delva Racine’s Dark Spring collection? One can only wonder what Star Killer himself was wearing under the coat, or rather, what he wasn’t. Is there love in the air for the lover-for-hire? We’ll be keeping an eye out for them both at the State Gala next weekend, the last event of the season before the Magistrate’s Ball._

  


Ren’s lip curled, and he threw the holojournal aside.

  


Hux smirked. “Vapid nothings, isn't it? Nobody really cares who either of us are, only that we’re associated with the Harrins.”

  


“Any attention is bad attention.” Ren growled. 

  


Hux’s eyes rolled to the heavens. “Oh please. You’re a walking contradiction. You stalk through the streets with your helmet and your black cape, and you expect nobody to notice you? It’s 42 degrees outside, Ren. Nobody in their right mind wears as much as you do in this kind of heat. Of course people stare at you - they think you're insane, and rightly so.” 

  


“They’re my clothes.” Ren said, his voice taking on a petulance he was none too pleased with. 

  


“Hm. Nice tan you’ve got there. Speak to me again after you’ve fainted from heat exhaustion in broad daylight and I’m _not_ there to scrape you out of the dust. Oh, speaking of helmets, yours is there.” His gestured to the edge of his dressing table. Sure enough, there sat Ren’s helmet and saber.

  


Ren reached for them, slotting the saber back onto his belt with a wave of relief. Hux smirked at him.

  


“Next time, how about you read the article before barging in here, blasters blazing and pestering Phasma?” 

  


“Next time?!” Ren spluttered, newfound anger bubbling up. “What in hells makes you think there’s going to _be_ a next time?” 

  


Hux looked at him steadily in the mirror. “Because two generations of the Harrin family are going to be at the State Gala, and Mercuri is out for my blood.” 

  


Ren stilled. It would be a perfect opportunity to get close to his target, but having Hux there would limit his movements. “Wouldn’t my presence anger Mercuri even more?”

  


Hux shrugged. “Yes, but he’s seen some of what you can do, and he’s limited by the proximity of his family. He’s not going to pull some of the chit he gets away with at his private parties.”

  


“If they’re as powerful as you say, I doubt his grandmother is going to stop him very much.” 

  


Hux seemed to shrink a little in his chair. “You’re right. But it’ll be noticed if I don’t go, and I can’t afford to lose their favour. I have no choice in the matter.” He put down his makeup, and turned to Ren. “You said you’ve been to your share of society events. You know how they work. You know how to curry favour. You know how hard it is won, and how quickly it is lost.”

  


Ren knew more than Hux would ever know. He felt a sharp stab of guilt. Decidedly _not_ thinking about his family, he sighed. “Fine.” He had to admit, it was a perfect way to get in the vicinity of Samira Harrin and work out how she would be best dispatched. 

  


A flash of profound relief crossed Hux’s face before it was schooled away. “Good,” Hux said. “That’s good.” He smiled. “I’ve got a gift for you, if you’re willing.” 

  


Ren frowned. “A gift?” 

  


Hux smiled, standing. “Indeed.” He went to the wardrobe and pressed his fingers to it. It unlocked and slid open under his touch, revealing a selection of clothes, lingerie, jewellery, and a pot filled with credit chips. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a wide corset which he dropped on the sofa behind him. He locked the cupboard again and turned to a bag under his dressing table, pulling out - to Ren’s barely concealed horror - a black thong. 

  


“For you,” Hux said, a sly smile on his face. He handed the slinky object to Ren, before picking up the corset and loosening it. 

  


Ren stared at the thong. It was soft and incredibly light in his hands, and terrified him more than he cared to admit. “You bought me a thong?” 

  


“Well, it certainly won’t fit me. Nor will this corset. You’re so broad - I can see why you don’t own any clothes. It must be hellish to find anything that fits properly on a budget.” He paused, studying Ren. “Well, take off your clothes then!” 

  


Ren swallowed, staring at the thong for one final moment. Swallowing down his embarrassment, he dropped it onto his lap and began to shed his clothes. Hux took each item Ren discarded, folding it and placing it next to his helmet. When Ren was down to his boxers, Hux smiled darkly. 

  


“Corset or thong first? I’d suggest the thong - bending down in a full corset is a little difficult.” 

  


Ren swallowed. “Thong… then.” Hux handed him the offending item. It was painfully small, and Ren could feel a flush creeping across his cheeks. He turned around, dropping his pants and pulling on the thong. It only just held his package, large amounts of hair spilling from above the fabric, and the string nestled between his cheeks felt… odd. He turned back to Hux, distinctly apprehensive, but this was quelled when he caught sight of both himself in the mirror, and Hux’s expression. He’d automatically pulled the waistband high on his hips, the string rising to follow the V of his abdomen, the mesh over his dick taut. He ran an experimental thumb along it, watching Hux’s eyes follow it hungrily. The man was mesmerised, his expression filled with predatory lust, a sideways smile on his lips. 

  


“Turn around again,” Hux said, his voice low. Something flipped in Ren’s stomach and he turned, not missing the quiet intake of breath from Hux. 

  


He went to look over his shoulder, but Hux caught him. “Not yet, let’s get the corset on. Lift your arms.” 

  


Ren did so, hearing the quiet, warm breath of his companion near his shoulder as he leaned around him and attached the corset at the front. “Put your hands on the wall.” Hux said, and Ren did so, bracing against the wall. 

  


“Breathe in,” Hux said quietly, and then the corset was pulled, the sides tightening close around Ren’s chest and waist. It forced him to breathe with his upper chest, making his pecs look as if they were heaving. Hux wound the laces around his hands. “Once more,” Hux said, and pulled, Ren’s head dropping forward, his hair falling over his face as the corset tightened over his torso. He gasped at the tightness around his abdomen, the constricted feeling strangely invigorating even as he struggled to take a full breath. He felt Hux tie the laces and drop them, then Ren pushed off from the wall, turning to the mirror. 

  


His mouth fell open at the sight of himself. The corset hugged his figure, pulling in his waist and making his broad chest and shoulders look even wider. His nipples just peeked out, the corset pushing his pecs together and accentuating his already unusually large chest. His thong was partially covered, the black mesh forming a smooth circle of weight which showed below the bottom of the boning. 

  


Hux stepped up behind him and placed his hands either side of Ren’s neck, sliding his hands up behind his ears and into his hair. His slender fingers stroked across his head, pulling back Ren’s curls and clipping them away, revealing his ears. He bit back a smirk at their size, Ren’s cheeks flushing a little bit as he ran a finger down the shell of one ear. Hux circled him appraisingly, his eyes dark and rapacious as he took in Ren’s appearance. Ren made to step towards him, but was stopped by a slender finger on his lips. Hux gently pushed him backwards to the sofa. “Sit. I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmured. 

  


Reaching for the bag of makeup on the dressing table, Hux plucked a few items from it. “Close your eyes and don’t flinch,” he commanded, and Ren felt something smooth and ticklish sweep across his eyelids. Next were his lips, his top lip carefully filled in, the bottom drawn in a semicircle. Hux’s breath was close, his hands brushing across his skin oh so gently, the sounds and sensations amplified by his lack of sight. Eventually, Hux retreated, and Ren was commanded to “stand up, and open.” 

  


He felt Hux rest his head on the back of his shoulder as he opened his eyes, coming face to face with a person he hardly recognised. His lips were painted in a deep blood red, his eye makeup dark and sultry, with heavy black wings. There was one small stripe down the middle of his bottom lip painted in brilliant gold. Hux was studying him in the mirror over his shoulder, smiling at Ren’s dumbfounded expression. “He brushes up well, that man. I’d love to see you in ceremonial robes.” 

  


Ren turned his head, his nose brushing Hux’s cheek. “What are they like?”

  


“Ridiculous,” Hux said, sliding his hands around Ren’s waist. “Opulent.” He kissed Ren’s neck, tracing the newly exposed skin. “Decorative.” He licked the shell of Ren’s ear. “Heavy.” His hands slid lower, creeping to Ren’s front and downwards towards his groin. “Expensive.” Ren bit his lip as Hux’s hand palmed his dick, earning a sharp bite from Hux. “Don’t ruin my makeup.” Reluctantly Ren released his lip, his own hands searching behind him for Hux’s torso. He felt Hux’s skin jump as his large hands closed around his waist. Then a memory came unbidden to him, and he turned around, inwardly lamenting the loss of that hot mouth on his earlobe. 

  


Hux looked at him, eyebrow quirked. “What?” 

  


Ren smirked, and placed two hands either side of Hux’s waist. “If I can make my hands touch, you have to do something for me.” 

  


“And if they don’t?” Hux asked, his cheeks reddening slightly.

  


“Then I’ll do something for you.” 

  


Hux blinked at him, but didn’t remove Ren’s hands. Ren took this to mean assent, and pressed his hands together. “Suck in.” 

  


“You didn’t specify that I had to help-“

  


Ren spoke over him, his tone laced with authority. “Suck in.” Hux drew in his stomach and Ren pressed his hands together. Much to Hux’s embarrassment, Ren’s large hands came in contact easily. “Oh, look. I win.”

  


Hux peered at Ren, his cheeks pink. “What do you want?” 

  


Ren leaned in further until his plush lips were nearly brushing against the shell of Hux’s ear. He lingered there for a moment, taking in the anticipatory tension radiating off his body and the sound of his quiet, halting breath. He felt a smile quirk at the corner of his lips, and gently breathed across Hux’s ear. The shudder and exhale that he got in reply went straight downwards, and Ren had to curb himself before he forgot the plan altogether. 

  


“I’ll hold your favour for now.” He said in a rush of breath, his voice low. Hux stilled. 

  


“What?”

  


“I’ll keep it, if you’ll let me.” 

  


Hux blinked at him, his eyes sharply green in the light of the mirror. “Of course, but-“ he cut himself off, a chastised expression flickering across his face before he could school it into submission. Ren smirked. 

  


“Were you thinking I’d ask for something else, Star Killer?” He murmured, his teeth finding Hux’s earlobe. 

  


Hux’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as Ren sucked on his ear. “Of course not. What do you take me for?” He said, indignant. 

  


Ren chuckled, a low laugh that rumbled through his chest. “Alright,” he said, releasing Hux. “If you say so.” 

  


Hux stiffened, his back straightening. “I’ve got to get onstage in a moment anyway. You’re bad for concentration.” 

  


Ren smiled darkly as Hux stalked to the mirror to check his appearance one last time. His eyes flicked to Ren. “Stay here; you’ve seen this act before. And I don't want just anybody seeing you like that.” 

  


Ren’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he remembered just what he was currently wearing. His cheeks reddened. “I’m not sure I do either.” 

  


Hux barked a laugh before turning to leave. “You look fabulous, darling,” he drawled, before pulling the door shut behind him.

  


— 

  


Ren sat in his dingy little room, water cascading down his wall. He had never actually experienced the almost legendary Coruscanti rain, so rare as it came. The run-down building was in no shape to handle so much water, and it seemed to be dripping onto every surface. His bed was wet, the floorboards were dark and swollen, and the walls were glistening with a continuous stream. It reminded him of the caves Snoke had left him in as a teenager to ‘teach him endurance’; he’d barely survived eating bitter tasting insects which upset his stomach and catching what bats and small rodents he could, cooking them over a tiny, smoky fire kindled with damp wood. He’d lost half of his bodyweight, what little of it there was. He’d been a gangly, awkward teen, yet to grow into his limbs and prone to clumsiness, and the significant weight loss had only added to his scarecrow appearance. 

  


The bright orange dust outside had quickly turned into a thick red clay, potholes and footprints filling with cloudy water. Most were sheltering as best they could, but a few brave souls were grimly trudging through the streets, soaked to the bone and ankle deep in sticky mud. A man was attempting to coax a small boy to jump a puddle, pulling on his arm as the child leaned back, wet hair plastered to his face. The boy, scowling, yanked his arm sharply and tugged the man forward into the puddle. An enraged growl, a sharp slap and a whimper cut the incessant pattering of rain. 

  


Ren was using the force to keep the worst of the water off himself, but that didn’t stop the cold permeating his bones. The air itself was thick with moisture, and his clothes were cold and heavy on his skin. Deep in conversation with Snoke, his eyes were shut, the goosebumps prickling up his arms the only physical reminder he had of where he was. 

  


_‘You’ve failed me.’_ Snoke’s voice rattled around his skull. Ren pushed down the urge to wince.

  


_‘I’m sorry, Master.’_

  


_‘You’ve failed me. You’ve broken one of the rules which I hold in utmost importance.’_

  


_‘I’m sorry, Master,’_ Ren said, mentally prostrating himself even while frantically searching his head to just _what_ he had failed so miserably. He usually knew; he usually admitted it to Snoke himself. A sharp pain lanced from the back of his neck and he heard himself distantly crying out. 

  


_‘Insolent boy, are you unaware even of just how you have cheated my confidence? I’d assumed that you, my most gifted protégé, would know better. I see now that I have been… disappointed.”_

  


Ren flinched, the mental slap resounding through his senses. He tasted metal, the acrid smell of ozone and oil burning his nose. A flash of cold, empty eyes and fresh blood hit him before he could quash it down. He tried to reign in his mind, Snoke’s presence an all encompassing shroud, wrapping itself around every thought and feeling. 

  


Snoke’s voice came in a vicious hiss. _‘I see I must educate you.’_

  


A vice of pressure enclosed around Kylo’s head, clamping on the tender parts of his skull. He writhed, clenching his jaw, his eyes squeezed tight shut. 

  


_‘A member of the Knights of Ren shall under no circumstances be seen in the public eye.’_

  


Ren’s heart sank. He knew he should have been more careful, but Hux was intoxicating - Hux _distracted_ him. He knew he was about to pay the price, and dearly. 

  


‘ _Master, my name was not publish-‘_ he began, but was swiftly cut off by a sudden piercing agony behind his eyes. He withered, feeling his physical body sway. 

  


_‘What do I wish to hear, Kylo Ren?’_

  


_‘A member of the Knights of Ren shall under no circumstances be seen in the public eye.’_ He ground out, still reeling. 

  


_‘And what have you done?’_

  


_‘I- I let myself be photographed.’_

  


The blinding pressure in his head eased, and Ren felt himself take a shuddering breath. A small surge of hope rushed through him. ‘ _Supreme Leader is wise’_ he felt himself echoing, a tiny part of him praying that Snoke would show him mercy for what surmounted to a small slip up. He hardly ever made mistakes. He was by far the best of the Knights- 

  


_“You will not fail me again, Kylo Ren. You will not let yourself be distracted by this Hux.”_ Snoke’s presence grew around Kylo, viscously plucking at his mental links to his body until he was pulled enough free to slip between them. 

  


Ren withdrew within himself, fear wrapping his mind tightly as he distantly felt his physical body stand. He was only released from control for a few seconds, but he was thrust back into his body and jolted out of his meditation just in time to feel a searing, all consuming pain bloom from his chest. He crumpled to the floor, his limbs jerking as he let out a choked scream. His hands released the lightsaber as he clutched them over the wound, the searing stripe of burned skin branding his left pectoral, the smell of burnt flesh and fabric acrid in his nostrils. A secondhand feeling of sick satisfaction echoed from Snoke as he succumbed to the pain, and let himself slide into blackness, hair wet against the soaked floor. 

  


  


—

  


The lights in the club were dimmed and the stage bright, two Keshiri women with rich purple skin dancing around one another. Hux was swirling the ice in his drink at the bar, disinterested in the display, when a familiar figure lumbered towards him. He felt his lip quirk. “Ren.” 

  


Ren didn’t reply, instead slumping stiffly down on to the stool next to him. He looked over to Hux, his face drawn, skin pallid. A bead of sweat glistened on his brow. Hux frowned. “Ren?”

  


“I can’t be your bodyguard. Find someone else.” Ren’s voice was reedy when he finally spoke. 

  


Hux scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. “You can’t quit on me. Don’t be an idiot.” 

  


“Find someone else,” Ren growled, his fist clenching on the bar top. Hux didn’t miss the wince that flashed across Ren’s features. 

  


“What have you done to yourself?” Hux asked, notes of concern shooting through his disdain. 

  


Ren visibly shrank back, his scowl deepening. “Nothing. I’m not going with you tomorrow.” 

  


“Bollocks to the party,” Hux said, standing. “What have you done, Ren?” 

  


Ren stiffened when he felt Hux’s hand ghost over his arm, but didn’t pull away. All rational thought was screaming for him to _just go,_ but his body didn’t seem to comply. He felt Hux’s fingers close more tightly around his arm, and his body relaxed under the touch, letting a brief flicker of the pain that cascaded through him cross his face. Hux’s eyes darkened, and he waved to Phasma, who stepped forward.

  


Ren growled, his voice low. “What are you doing?” 

  


“Well I certainly can’t carry you, and you look like you are going to keel over. Wouldn’t you rather avoid fainting in public _again_?” Hux said. 

  


Ren’s lip curled downwards, but he didn’t argue, instead following Phasma’s approach. She studied the two when she arrived, her expression dour, posture stiff. 

  


“Does he need rudely escorting out?” She said, her voice cold. 

  


Hux let out a bark of laughter. “No, I think that would do him more harm than good. I need you to help me take him to my room.” 

  


Phasma’s eyebrow quirked, but to her credit she asked no more questions, instead lifting Ren’s good arm over her shoulder and ignoring his pained grunt. Hux stepped away, cutting a path for the two across the club floor. Ren mutely watched Hux’s retreat, trying to put as little weight on Phasma as possible. She hummed next to him. 

  


“I’m stronger than I look, you know. But you wouldn't lean on me if I was a Houk.” 

  


Ren didn’t reply. The walk was slow going, and he was sweating with the effort. He knew he’d pushed himself too far coming here, but in this darkest hour his legs had carried him to the source of his pain and his relief. He’d question why later, when he wasn't semi-delirious with pain. 

  


Phasma chuckled. “I’ve smelled lightsaber wounds before. Quite distinct, actually - they’ve got this acrid tone that only comes with sudden, extreme heat. Did you drop yours?” 

  


Ren’s head darted to Phasma who carried on looking forwards, her eyes sparkling. “How do you know all this?” He said, his voice an accusatory rumble. 

  


Phasma laughed. “Do you really think I’ve been a bouncer in a Coruscanti strip club my entire life? No, Kylo Ren.” 

  


A cold wash of fear ran through Ren and he jerked to a stop. Phasma tightened her hold over his shoulders and pushed him forward, her iron fast grip propelling him on. “How do you know who I am?” Ren asked, his body suddenly pumping with adrenaline.

  


She smiled. “Take another look at your Knights, Ren. And take a long, long look at your leader.” 

  


Ren opened his mouth to ask, to demand, to splutter _something,_ but Hux was back, cradling his arms and depositing him on the sofa in his little dressing room. Ren blinked, and they were alone, the door shutting with a satisfying click, and Hux was guiding him down, pressing a cushion under his head and lifting his shirt. The hiss at what he found was not something Ren enjoyed hearing. 

  


“I know it’s bad.” Ren breathed, his eyes sliding to Hux’s. 

  


“How-“ 

  


“You don’t want to know.” 

  


Hux pursed his lips, but stayed quiet. He leaned down, pulling at the dressing Ren had hastily wrapped around himself before he left his flooded room. “This is damp,” Hux said. 

  


“It’s still raining.” 

  


Hux plucked at it, beginning to carefully unwind it from around Ren’s broad torso. It had adhered painfully to the burn, and Ren screwed his eyes shut as Hux peeled it away. “Did you clean this before you wrapped it?” 

  


Ren nodded, breathing stiffly through his nose, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The air burned the raw skin, tears pricking his eyes. Hux kneeled and reached under the sofa. He pulled out a box which he laid over Ren’s legs. “Sit still then.” Hux said, tapping the box open and pulling out some large bacta pads. He placed them over Ren’s side, the cool gel soothing on his stinging flesh. 

  


Ren peered down at the pads Hux was carefully lining up over the burn. ‘Why do you have these?” 

  


“Always better to come prepared.” Hux said, a worn smile flashing across his lips. “Not surprisingly, some people don’t like strippers.” 

  


Hux dug around in the box again until he found a small strip of capsules. He handed them to Ren, a wry smile on his lips. “This somehow feels familiar,” he said as he helped Ren up without jostling the bacta pads. Ren scowled at him as he accepted the glass of water Hux swiped from his table. He watched Ren take the capsules before putting away the box and sitting back. His hand fell upon Ren’s.

  


“Ren, what happened?” 

  


Ren jerked his hand away, his fingers clenching tightly into a fist. Hux had the pride not to look hurt. “What happened?” He repeated.

  


“You don’t want to know.” 

  


“I do.” 

  


Ren turned his head and met Hux’s eyes. He held his gaze for a long moment, studying the peripherals of his mind, his surface feelings. For such a physically closed off man, he projected so much emotion and thought. It was odd.

  


“I don’t want to tell you.” 

  


Hux came closer until Ren could smell his shampoo. He hadn’t gelled his hair this evening, and it looked golden in the strange light of the room. “You do,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Ren’s lips. “You desperately want to tell me.” 

  


Ren’s stomach was doing somersaults. It was true. He wanted to, _needed_ to talk to someone, to tell somebody about what he’d done, how he felt. What his master had made him do, and what his master had done to him, but the words stuck in his throat. He just couldn’t. He bit his lip instead. 

  


Hux sighed. “You’re so conflicted,” he said, his long fingers gently weaving through Ren’s hair, massaging his scalp. Ren let out a shaky sigh, his face twisted into a pained frown. Hux’s fingers were soft on his head, rubbing small, even circles. 

  


Ren finally admitted defeat, and let his eyes slide shut and his breathing relax. The fingers left his head, and Ren heard Hux turn and lean his back against the sofa arm. Ren let his head flop towards the smell of Hux’s shampoo, a soft and clean scent that filled his lungs. He heard Hux huff. 

  


“Are you smelling my hair?” 

  


“’s nice.” 

  


“You should wash yours.” 

  


“Mm.” 

  


— 

  


Ren tugged at the black shirt that sat tight across his bound chest. He’d been forced to let Hux help him change, being unable to lift his clothes over his head. Hux had put him in the same tight black trousers as before, but he’d given Ren a shirt with short sleeves to accommodate the sling. As Hux pulled it down over his torso, Ren had a thought. 

  


“Did you use Harrin’s account to buy this too?” 

  


“Of course,” Hux had replied nonchalantly, stepping back to inspect his handiwork. “Will you let me pull your hair back?” 

  


“No. Won’t he be even angrier with you?” 

  


“I don’t give a kriff, to be quite frank.” Hux said, taking a small black tie from the table and stepping behind Ren, gathering up his black curls into a short ponytail. 

  


“I said no-“ Ren grouched, reaching behind his head to pull on the bobble, but Hux’s hands were closed over it. 

  


“It suits you.” 

  


Ren met Hux’s gaze in the mirror in front of them. They were in Hux’s room, the light dimming behind the pale curtains. He eyed his ears, revealed from underneath his hair. A slight blush crept across his cheeks. 

  


“No,” Ren said again, hesitant. 

  


Hux ran his fingers across the shell of one of Ren’s ears. “Suit yourself,” he said, releasing his grip on the ponytail. He turned away, leaving Ren contemplating his ears in the mirror. He’d always seen them as large and ungainly, and had grown his hair to hide them. His fingers crept to the tie, but in a fleeting decision, he left it in. He saw Hux smile from the corner of his eye. Ren turned to him.

  


“So why can’t I see tonight’s outfit?” 

  


“I want it to be a surprise to everybody in the room” Hux said cryptically. “I don’t want to ruin it for you.” 

  


Despite Hux’s cryptic answers, Ren continued to mull it over as he followed Hux out of the door. Hux poked his sling arm as they stood in the street, clearly exasperated. “Incoming transmission for Ren, can you hear me?” 

  


The little jolt of pain that shot through his pectoral was enough to jolt Ren out of his reverie. “Ouch,” he grumbled, making a few quick steps to fall into pace with Hux, who had set off without looking back. 

  


“Don’t be a wuss.” 

  


“I’ve got third degree burns on my chest!” Ren cried, waving his good arm at the sling. 

  


“My comment stands,” Hux said sniffily, his lips turned downwards into a disdainful scowl. “The bacta dealt with the most of it. I can’t abide those who make unnecessary fuss.” 

  


Ren pushed down the memory which had sprung up of himself, age 17, destroying a table because someone had stolen his binka fruit. “I don’t think pain counts in this.”

  


“Pain always counts.” Hux said, his smile tinged with a rich lust. They stopped at a crossroads, the thick bustle of people and transports stopping their progress. Hux scowled. “This will take bloody hours at this rate, and I still need to change.” 

  


Ren nodded stiffly, the impenetrable throng of people making him feel distinctly claustrophobic. It was still so hot, despite it being well into evening. A Bith pushed through the crowds, forcefully shoving some and bouncing off others. Ren anticipated the collision before it happened, and the Bith found itself colliding with an invisible wall a few centimetres from Ren’s body. It stopped, it’s head quirking to the side as it reached out and poked the forcefield, pressing a finger against it, then a whole hand. Hux watched this interchange from the corner of his eye, inwardly smiling at Ren’s forced nonchalant expression as he seemed to look over the crowd. 

  


“Hail a transport for me, would you?” Hux drawled, his gaze sliding upwards to the stream of mismatched vehicles whizzing overhead. 

  


Ren glanced at him. “I think it would be better if you did that,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking hesitantly to the sling across his arm.

  


Hux sighed. “How undignified,” he said, sticking a thumb directly upwards into the air, lips pursed. A transport descended immediately, the crowd making space as if by clockwork. The unlikely pair climbed in, settling themselves as the transport rejoined the stream above the ground. The State Gala was being held at the Harrin Estate, a huge penthouse at the highest point in the residential district. The transport touched down on the private landing pad, and Hux tossed a credit chip at the droid as he stepped out, Ren hot on his heels. The two were greeted by a tall man with perfectly crisp robes and a sleek ponytail. 

  


“Ah, Star Killer. We feared you may not bless us with your presence,” he said, the sarcasm thick in his voice. 

  


Hux smiled. “You can’t lose me that easily, Dassryl.” 

  


Dassryl sneered. “Who is this?” He said, waving a hand towards Ren.

  


“You know full well who he is. My personal protection, as per usual.” 

  


The man laughed. “What protection can he offer in that state? Have you noticed he’s already injured?” 

  


Ren scowled, catching Dassryl’s gaze. “I am fully capable of protecting him, sling or no.” 

  


Dassryl quirked an eyebrow. “Indeed.” He turned to Hux. “Go in through the back. You're not dressed appropriately. I assume you’re competent enough to have brought a spare outfit?” He said, eyeing the bag slung over Hux’s shoulder. 

  


“Good to see you’re as kind as always, Dassryl. See you later.” Hux called, already walking away. He blew the irate butler a kiss as the door slid shut behind them. Ren studied him, nonplussed. Hux chuckled low in his chest. 

  


“He’s got a crush on me.” 

  


“Excuse me?” Ren spluttered. “Did you hear how he talked to you?” 

  


“Yes, but wait until he’s in full swing. He’s slicker than a Rackmelon Pip. I’ve never seen him talk so frankly to anyone else… ever, actually,” Hux said, his voice sliding off in contemplation. He shrugged. “Shame he’s not my type.” 

  


“Too nice?” 

  


“Skinny.”

  


Ren snorted, eyeing Hux’s own small frame as they walked through the service corridors at the back of the apartment. Hux seemed to know exactly where he was going, so Ren contented himself watching the swing of Hux’s hips just visible under his tunic as he led the way. Eventually Hux came to a small room. He touched the lock on the door, and Ren was surprised to see it open under his fingers. 

  


“I told you I was a family favourite, didn’t I?” Hux said, stepping inside. Dim lights lit the space, revealing a dressing table, washbasin, wardrobe, sofa… and a bed. 

  


“I thought you said you didn’t sleep with your clients?” Ren asked, his voice low. 

  


“I’ve never fucked a Harrin, but by the gods does Mercuri want me to. He had this room installed for me. I didn’t choose to put the bed in here, believe me. I use it sometimes to take naps at parties where he’s boring me. There’s a concealed camera up in that corner, too.” Hux replied, flicking a hand towards the corner facing the bed. He dropped his bag onto the dressing table. “Right,” he said, turning to Ren. “You can stand outside, or you can turn away. Either way, I’m not having two of you watch me change. Mercuri is more than enough.” 

  


Ren studied Hux’s defeated expression as he dug around in the bag. Reaching out with the Force, he located the optical sensor in the camera on the wall and crushed it. It was so easy it felt like blinking.

  


“He’s not watching any more.” 

  


Hux spun on his heel, frowning at Ren, and then towards the camera. “How do you know?” 

  


“I broke the camera.” 

  


“Oh.” Hux said, a smile playing across his features. “I knew you’d come in handy. Maybe I’ll thank you on there later.” He waved to the bed, eyeing Ren’s body appraisingly. “Those trousers really hide nothing.” 

  


“You picked them.” 

  


“I know. Now get out. I need to change.” 

  


Ren rolled his eyes and stomped to the doorway. He stood in the hall, entertaining himself by aggressively staring at the servants who were unfortunate enough to pass by the room. Eventually, he heard Hux’s voice inviting him back in, and stepped into the room to find him wrapped in a fine white cloak. 

  


“Are you ready?” Hux asked, adjusting the clasp on the cloak in the mirror.

  


Ren nodded, swiftly following Hux as he wafted out and made a beeline for the main rooms. He fell into step as they turned the first corner. Their knuckles brushed. Hux spoke. 

  


“Don’t let Mercuri touch me past a hand on my waist. This party is huge and we will be expected tomake conversation with whomever for the first couple of hours before I perform. You will stay close to me and remain quiet unless spoken to. I hope you have patience for idle small talk.” 

  


Ren huffed, smirking. “Do I look like someone who enjoys _mingling_?” 

  


“I hate it too.” 

  


“But it’s your job, isn't it?”

  


Hux stopped, grabbing Ren’s good arm and pushing him backwards until he hit the wall. He ignored Ren’s grunt as his back connected, instead pressing his lips to Ren’s. Ren opened his mouth willingly, allowing Hux to press his tongue against his own as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Hux’s thigh between his legs, and was painfully aware of the fact that his trousers were doing little to muffle the sensations shooting up from his groin as Hux ground up against him. 

  


“Only you would see all that I do and assume my main job is making idle chatter,” Hux said breathily into Ren’s mouth. “That’s not how I make my money, and you know it.” 

  


Ren’s hand slid downwards over Hux’s silken cape, tracing the curves of his back before his hand came to rest on his buttocks. He could feel Hux was wearing something hard, as if it had been forged rather than sewn. The thick ridge of whatever it was bisected his hips oddly, leaving a lump which Ren traced with his thumb. Hux caught his hand, pulling away from Ren’s lips. 

  


“No sneak previews.” He muttered, a wicked look in his eye as he pressed his hips harder into Ren’s groin, eliciting a cut off moan. “Come on; we’re running behind,” he said, checking an imaginary chronometer on his wrist before striding off down the hall. 

  


Ren stood for a moment longer, dazed and aroused. He stared at the wall, scared to look down for fear of how visibly hard he was through the trousers, before he was snapped form his trance by an echo down the hallway. 

  


“I didn’t just bring you for eye candy, Ren. Get your arse next to mine and keep it there.” Ren sprang up, quickly locating Hux who was standing in front of a small door. “This is the service entrance which should put us into the lobby, if I remember correctly,” Hux said. “Or it’s a refresher. Let’s find out, shall we? Breathe in.” Hux stepped forward and the door slipped open to reveal a wide hallway lined with high paintings and lit by twirling chandeliers of blown glass, making the long line of guests’ richly embellished clothes twinkle. Hux smiled to himself, shutting the door behind Ren. 

  


“Perfect. We’ve skipped most of the queue.’ He said, slotting himself in front of an overdressed, portly woman who bristled at them. Hux didn’t seem affected, peering down the line ahead of him where the queue began at a huge set of doors.

  


Ren leaned over to Hux. “What’s happening here?” 

  


“Oh, the guests get announced to the room before they are allowed admittance. It’s all posturing and farce. Everyone likes to be reminded of their class of company, and it also serves as a way for the hosts to keep note of when the guests they actually care about arrive.” Hux explained. Ren nodded mutely, the whole situation bizarre to him. This had never happened on Naboo and Chandrila, where the parties he’d been taken to as a child had been hosted. They were much more quiet affairs with a small group of people who’d all somehow known him. In retrospect, Ren thought, maybe he’d been exposed to even less of his mother’s world than he’d originally thought.

  


Slowly, methodically, they moved forward until they reached the front of the line. Hux stepped forward, head high, a haughty expression on his face. The doorman, a wisened old man holding a data pad, peered up at the two of them. Hux didn’t return the gaze.

  


The old man spoke, his voice surprisingly loud and pure for someone Ren had taken to be nearing 90. “The Harrin family would like to welcome Star Killer and his companion to the 64th Annual State Gala.” A few heads turned when they entered through the doors, and Ren quickly located the spiteful face of Mercuri. He was with an older woman with similar striking features. Ren assumed this was his grandmother Samira. As they joined the throng proper, Ren allowed himself to peer around the space. The grand hall was a cavernous room with floor to ceiling windows on every side, showing the city vista. Sleek, expertly crafted furniture and items peppered the space, and a huge, sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling. The crowd was thick, richly dressed people in styles spanning the known galaxy milled around, conversing and drinking from tall glasses. Interspersed among the guests were servants dressed in black, much like Ren, but holding wide silver trays with all manner of delicacies artfully arranged upon them. At least he wouldn’t stand out quite so much here. Small mercies.

  


Hux’s hand brushed against his. “Unfortunately I must greet the Harrins. Come along. If you pass someone carrying a tray with some blue flowers, try one. They’re rather nice.” 

  


They began to make their slow way across the room, stopping only when interrupted by random guests, all of whom Hux seemed to know, some rather intimately. Ren for the most part ignored them, choosing to absently scan the crowd and muse at some of the more… extravagant choices of dress on display. However, when the tallest creature by far at the party, a slender Kaminoan with translucent skin stopped them in their path, Ren found his curiosity piqued. 

  


“Star Killer,” the Kaminoan said, her voice smooth. “It is a pleasure to meet you again,” she said, her long fingers clasped over Hux’s hand.

  


Hux smiled, Ren noting that some genuine feeling had entered his eyes rather than flat politeness. “Hala Ge, the same to you, as always. This is Ren. Ren, meet Hala Ge, an old friend of mine.” 

Ren quirked a brow, surprised at being introduced. So far, Hux had left Ren out of the conversations, preferring them to stay short. Ren nodded to the towering creature. 

  


“You’re from Kamino, are you not?” Ren asked. The planet where the clone army had been manufactured. The clone army controlled by his grandfather and defeated by his uncle. 

  


Hala Ge inclined her head. “Indeed. Have you had the good fortune to visit Kamino?” 

  


“No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” Ren replied. He dearly wished he could. Anything to do with his Grandfather fascinated him. Despite never completing his training, he still idolised Lord Vader, and found himself drawn to the darker sides of the Force where he knew his spirit dwelled.

  


“A shame. I extend my invitation, for any ally of Star Killer is an ally of mine.” 

  


Hux smiled again, placing a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “That’s very kind of you,” turning to Ren, he said “you’ll find Hala Ge is a rather gracious host. She kept me most comfortable when I found myself there for a span.” Ren nodded, concealing a frown. Kamino, while known for being the best in the galaxy for clone research, was not considered a vista. Why had Hux ended up on a water planet with near constant rainfall and no high-society to speak of? Why did he have a feeling it had something to do with Mercuri Harrin?

 

Hala Ge hummed, pleased. “Thank you, Star Killer. I enjoyed your company greatly, as much as a surprise it was.” 

  


Hux inclined his head. “I’m sorry I must cut this reunion short, but I have yet to greet our most gracious hosts. I’m sure our paths will cross again this evening.” Hux extended his hand, and the towering Kaminoan took it in her own.

  


“I look forward to it, and your performance this evening,” she said, turning away. Her gait was smooth, and she seemed glide through the crowd as she left the pair. 

  


Ren turned to Hux, noting the troubled tightness around his eyes, as if his memories associated with her were more complex than he cared to admit. Ren opened his mouth to speak, but Hux raised a hand. “Maybe later, Ren. It’s a long story, and I’d rather tell it with a strong whiskey.”

  


“Does it have anything to do with the man shooting daggers at you over there?” Ren asked, gesturing to Mercuri, who had been watching Hux’s approach with a steely gaze since they’d entered the room.

  


“Everything, unfortunately. Now look sharp.” Hux warned. They’d reached an area at the back of the room, raised slightly and stewarded by a black clad attendant. Hux straightened, schooling his face into a perfect rendition of detached grace as he stepped past the attendant and stood in front of the members of the Harrin family, seated for receiving. Ren came to rest just behind him. 

  


“My Lady Samira, I am honoured to make your acquaintance again.” Hux said clearly, bowing. 

  


She regarded him cooly, her gloved hands resting on her knees. She was richly dressed in swathes of deep red fabric, her huge sleeves trailing on the floor in the height of Coruscant fashion. Her hair, white as snow, was woven with red beads and gems which twinkled in the light. It reminded Ren of drops of blood on snow. She spoke slowly and with consideration, trained in the art of political debate. 

  


“Star Killer. I see my grandson has invited you again,” she said, glancing at Mercuri, seated to her right. “While I don’t necessarily approve of your… activities with the gentry, I will admit I enjoyed your performance last year. I’m expecting that you will not disappoint me or my guests at this most important event.”

  


Hux smiled, a glimmer of pride flashing across his face as he bowed again. “I’m sure that won’t come to be, my Lady.” 

  


Samira raised a perfectly shaped brow, but said no more. Turning to her grandson, she looked pointedly at him until he got the message: _‘remove this man from my sightline.’_

  


Mercuri stood, a sickly smile on his face. He did not look at Ren. “Come, Star Killer. Let me procure you a drink.” 

  


Hux accepted Mercuri’s arm, looping his own through it. He guided Hux to a bar area, the picture of grace and gentility, but Ren knew otherwise. The Senator was still seething, his abject rage from the last party having cooled into something much more sinister. Mercuri’s voice was low, but with only a light flex of the Force Ren could hear him as clear as if he was shouting. 

  


“You’ve brought your Force user dog again, I see. Get a little bit rough with him while you were fucking, did you? Does he pay you to be beaten, or do you get off on having a sex slave who’ll gnash his teeth at anyone you don’t like?” 

  


Ren could feel the angry heat reaching his cheeks, both fists clenched despite the pain that lanced through his burned chest. He wanted to argue, to defend himself and Hux, but Hux shot a warning glance backwards as if he knew just what Ren was about to do. Ren managed to keep his mouth clamped shut. Mercuri would get his comeuppance. Ren would do it personally. 

  


Hux was under no such inclination to stay quiet, and replied clearly, a scheming spark in his eye. “No, I didn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t pay me to fuck him. I do that for free, with pleasure.” 

  


Ren sincerely wished his hair was not pulled off his face, for it would have aided in hiding the riotous blush which had spread up to the tips of his ears. The look that Mercuri shot him was murderous. His grip tightened on Hux’s arm, his posture stiff with unuttered fury and jealousy. His face however remained pleasant, as if they were simply conversing about the weather. 

  


“I see,” Mercuri drawled, snatching a drink from the bar. “And yet I pay you twenty thousand credits every time I require your company.” 

  


Hux smiled indulgently, a cold chuckle bubbling up from his throat. “I don’t mix business with pleasure, Senator.” 

  


Mercuri’s expression changed, serenity sliding off to show the spite beneath. His arm jerked, pulling Hux against him. “Your business _is_ pleasure, you credit chip whore. I own you. I expect you to treat me as such,” he spat into Hux’s ear, not caring about the surprised stares the nearest partygoers were shooting them. 

  


Before Ren could react, Hux had jerked himself free of Mercuri’s grip, taking two unsteady steps back and colliding with Ren’s chest. Ren laid a protective hand on Hux’s shoulder, watching the Senator take a deep breath as he once again wrapped up his bitter hatred in diplomatic politeness. Hux was not shaken. 

  


“I have never once wronged you, Senator, as you are aware. I have, and always will be, a dedicated patron to you, as I was to your mother before you.” Hux said smoothly, taking a drink from the bar. He stepped forward again, closing the distance between them, until Ren was sure that Hux would be able to feel Mercuri’s breath on his face. His gaze was sultry as he ran the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, swiping some of the lipstick from it. He lifted his slender hand, brushing his thumb almost tenderly across Mercuri’s cheekbone. “To you, my Lord,” Hux said, his voice sensual, slow. “I am grateful for your unbridled generosity and kindness. It is, truly, a pleasure to entertain you so frequently.” 

  


In one long movement, Hux threw the drink back, swallowing it in one before he threw it unceremoniously back onto the bar. He winced as the acrid spirit hit the back of his throat, before turning on his heel and striding purposefully away, leaving Mercuri alone. The Senator’s gaze swept to Ren, who was yet to follow. He looked slightly crazed, the stripe of lipstick across his cheek like a brand. The crowd around them was silent now, staring.

  


“Well, go on then!” Mercuri cried, voice dripping with venom. “Go and penetrate the impenetrable, you jumped-up loathsome faced parasite, and tell that pathetic excuse for a cocotte that if he _ever_ uses my funds to clothe any of his wretched flings again I’ll drive him so deeply into the ground that he’ll be _glad_ to end up on the lower levels trading blowjobs for spice-”

  


_“Mercuri!”_

  


The voice cut the low murmurings of the guests like a knife, leaving stunned silence in its wake. The whole room was holding their breath as Mercuri turned to see Samira storming towards him, her red dress billowing behind her like blood in water. All the colour drained from Mercuri’s face, leaving the stark stripe of lipstick to glow even brighter on his skin. 

  


“Grandmother-“ Mercuri started, but he was cut off when she grabbed his wrist, her thin hand tight, red gloves pressed into his skin. 

  


Samira’s voice was clipped, deeply reproachful. “How _dare_ you embarrass me so. The _entire_ First Order delegacy and every member of the trade guild are in attendance, and you pick now to have a petty squabble with a _private escort?”_ Her voice dropped low, the amount of vitriol in it surprising even Ren. _“_ I knew I shouldn’t have let your mother raise you, _insolent boy._ You’re a disgrace to the Harrin family and the Senate. Even that Star Killer boy has more sensibility than you.”

  


Mercuri had gone deadly still, his face slack with shock and hurt. Samira took one final look at him, before she scoffed and turned to Kylo. 

  


“Please extend my apologies to Star Killer, and express to him my hope that he will still perform for us this evening. In my time of knowing him he has been nothing but respectful, even if his profession and ties to my family are… dubious.” 

  


Ren inclined his head in a slight bow, realising that now was his time to make a swift exit. He turned away, trying to ignore how the crowd parted for him as he made a beeline towards the last place he’d seen Hux. He’d broken his promise to keep him in sight. He hoped that Hux wouldn’t be too angry with him. Pressing his hand to the panel on the servant’s entrance, he stepped into the blissfully quiet corridor. He stopped a droid as it passed carrying a pile of empty silver trays.

  


“Did you see a man with orange hair and a white cloak go by?” 

  


The droid beeped jovially, spinning itself on the spot to point back from where it had come. Ren thanked it, setting off down the corridor. Even the servants areas were nicely finished, with thick carpet to muffle their footprints as they came and went. Ren peered around the first corner he came to, and finding nothing, continued on, checking each turning as he did so. 

  


Eventually, Ren came to a corridor he recognised. The door to Hux’s little room was different from the others, with it’s addition of a touch lock. Ren rapped his knuckles against the durasteel, extending his Force to sense for Hux’s presence. He was very close.

  


“Hux? Are you in there?” 

  


The door slid open, revealing Hux slumped across his sofa, staring at the ceiling. The vase of flowers which had sat on his dressing table was smashed across the floor, the contents of his makeup bag scattered among it. Ren picked his way through the mess to the sofa. He peered over Hux, who stared through him, his green eyes glassy.

  


“Hux?

  


Hux’s eyes flicked to Ren’s, and he gave him a weary smile. “You seem to have found me.” 

  


Ren knelt down beside him, eyeing the half empty glass that hung limp in Hux’s fingers. “Are you drunk?” 

  


“Good god, no.” Hux scoffed, pushing himself up. “Though I’ll admit I’d like to be.” He patted the sofa next to him, and Ren sat down. Hux slumped towards him, resting his head on Ren’s broad shoulder. They sat like that for a while, the silence comfortable between them, Ren absently counting the pieces of broken vase stuck into the carpet. Eventually, he spoke. 

  


“High Senator Samira Harrin offers her apology.” 

  


Hux lifted his head, looking incredulous. “ _Samira does?”_

  


Ren nodded. “You missed a family argument.” 

  


Hux snorted. “That’s a shame. I would have enjoyed watching Samira lose her composure. What happened?”

  


“After you left, Mercuri started on me, but Samira was having none of it. She called him a ‘disgrace to the family’, and said that she regretted letting his mother raise him.”

  


Hux let out a low whistle. “Low blows. Though Samira is fighting a losing battle. Mercuri, just like his mother, rest her soul, were rotten to the core with greed, lust and spite. Samira carries the last of the old-world Harrin values.”

  


Ren smirked. “Mercuri was this kind of funny grey colour when she’d finished. I thought he was going to topple over.” 

  


For the first time in what felt like too long, Hux let out a purely genuine laugh. “Serves him right. Nobody talks to me like that.” 

  


Ren found himself thanking the stars that Hux hadn’t heard all that Harrin had said. He would have probably punched him, and that would have flown even less with Samira. He didn’t really fancy being publicly evicted from the party and subject to more of Snoke’s wrath.

  


The thought of Snoke made him tense, and Hux lifted his head to peer at him. “Ren? Are you in pain?” 

  


“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

  


Hux regarded him, but didn’t push it, much to Ren’s relief. He settled back against his shoulder, and Ren made an effort to relax again. Hux sighed. “You know what,” he began, “I think I’m coming to like this little room more and more. I should use it as a bolthole.” 

  


“Do you need boltholes?” Ren asked, the image of Hux sneaking here with a suitcase comically strange to him. 

  


“Not really, but they’re useful to have. Even if just for storage, or… other activities. Though, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be using this one. I doubt Mercuri will keep me now he’s been publicly humiliated. I might be in for some serious trouble.” 

  


Ren raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” 

  


“He’s not the only one of my patrons who are here this evening. Some will continue to employ me because they like me. Others will drop me like a stone, because keeping Mercuri Harrin’s favour is much more profitable than keeping mine. To be honest, I’m not too bothered about that, because I’ve got enough saved up to live comfortably. No, it’s those who will attempt to gain standing with Harrin by trying to hurt me.” 

  


Ren sat up, forcing Hux to move his head. “There are people who’d do that?” 

  


“Oh gladly. In fact I can think of a fair few who already have the means. Strike while the iron-droid is hot, as they say. I’m going to have to watch my back closer than ever.” 

  


“What about Samira?” Ren asked. 

  


“She’ll remain impassive. She knows better than to meddle in the affairs of a private escort. Though, if I’m found murdered, it might cause her some grief.” Hux sighed. “Samira Harrin, believe it or not, is actually quite a nice woman if you get the chance to talk to her. She’s fair. Probably one of the only just High Senators left.” 

  


Ren blew out a long breath, his mind working. Why the hell had Snoke requested her dead? For all intents and purposes, she was a tolerant (albeit extremely powerful) old lady. She held the purse strings of the entire galaxy, and was a political juggernaut. Before now, Ren had only been given targets who were obviously guilty - drug lords, traitors, slavers. Each had been firmly in the wrong. Once he’d even dispatched a member of his own knights who had been accepting private contracts. While he’d found that particular assassination difficult, he’d done it all the same, firm in the belief that he was a powerful instrument in his master’s grand plan. This: this was something else. Something altogether more grand and more dangerous, a power move rather than an act of brutal justice. This was malice. It chilled him. 

  


“Ren?” Hux’s voice cut through Ren’s thoughts and brought him back to himself. He blinked at Hux, who was squeezing his thigh.

  


“Sorry, what did you just say?” 

  


“I said, do you need a painkiller. You keep tensing up.” 

  


“No.” 

  


Hux met him with a level gaze, his eyes boring through Ren. “You know,” he said, “you’re easier to read than you think you are. Your face is rather expressive. If you keep bottling up whatever you’re thinking about, it’ll all explode.” He sat back, head flopping onto the back of the sofa. “I can see why you wear the mask.” 

  


Ren pursed his lips, saying nothing. His gaze returned to the broken vase on the floor, pointedly ignoring Hux. Hux let him wallow for all of 30 seconds, before he sighed dramatically and pulled himself astride Ren’s lap, blocking his view.   
  
“Ren, I’m too good looking to ignore. It’s futile. Give up and look at me.” Ren, who had been pointedly staring through Hux, finally focussed on the man in his lap. Hux’s moss green eyes looked almost grey in the dim light. 

  


“That’s better,” Hux murmured, cradling Ren’s cheek. He smiled, the total warmth spreading across his features so rare that Ren fancied he was the first to see it. Something big, bright and dangerous bloomed inside Ren’s chest. Rather than examine it, he leaned in and claimed Hux’s lips. His hands slid around his waist as Hux’s fingers found his hair. He could feel Hux winding it gently around his fingers, the gentle tug soothing to him as he listened to Hux’s breathing and tasted the spirit on his tongue. His hands gently traced the thin man’s figure, fingers mapping the strange clothes he was wearing under that cloak. _‘Is Hux wearing a chastity belt?’_ He mused, frowning as he found the hard lump following his hips again. 

  


Hux hummed against his mouth. “Still no peeking, Ren. If you want to see what I’m hiding, you’re going to have to let me go,” he purred, kiss swollen lips a centimetre from Ren’s. Ren sighed, but let him go. 

  


“Fine.”

  


Hux regarded him for a moment before standing and picking his way to the door. “Well, no time to waste, then.” He said, peering back at Ren still seated on the sofa. “Don’t you want to see what I’m hiding?” 

  


Ren smirked and stood. “Lead the way, Star Killer.” 


	4. Durang Fruit

**Chapter 4**

 

A few minutes later, Ren found himself standing near the back of the grand hall, the crowd thick in front of him. Hux had left him in the company of Hala Ge before he’d stalked off to prepare; to Ren’s surprise, he found her company rather amiable. She was just finishing explaining the finer points of allele division in the cloning process when the lights fell. 

 

“Ah, this is it.” Hala Ge murmured, her height lending her an unobstructed view of some thick curtains being drawn back at the other end of the room. Ren was not so lucky, but was still able to see most of the goings on. The crowd’s murmurings died down until the only sound was the smooth swish of heavy fabric and the clink of metal rings. Ren could see nothing in the dim light, his eyes straining to focus in the dark.

 

Lights suddenly flooded the stage, revealing Hux. He was reclined on a cushion, head tilted downwards, revealing to Ren what looked like a gold collar attached to a chain. The chain was long and heavy, and secured him to a thick pillar in the middle of the stage. He was still wearing his cape.

 

Ren frowned, a trickle of apprehension growing in his chest as the crowd began to murmur, some obviously very excited.

 

Hala Ge leaned down to Ren. “It’s his signature performance. Hux gained the patronage of Creena Harrin, Mercuri’s mother, after he performed this very act at the Spring fundraiser 6 years ago. He only performs it at the most special occasions.” 

 

Ren peered up at her, baffled. “Slave? Surely there are thousands of escorts who have slave acts-“

 

“Not this kind. Wait and see.” She murmured, an impish look on her face. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” 

 

A musician stood from the orchestra in the corner, which had up to this point been playing light music. He picked up his mandoviol and struck up a slow, pensive tune in a minor key, and Hux began to move. His hand snaked up to the collar around his neck and he tugged at it, his expression filling with anguish as he pulled himself to his knees and crawled forwards, the chain going taut with a _clink._ Hux fell backwards, the cloak falling open across his legs and revealing the pale expanse of his skin and a flash of purple. His fingers scrabbled for his neck again, this time unclasping the cape. 

 

Kylo felt his world dim as it fell off his shoulders and pooled around his hips. His chest tightened, his stomach lurched. The world titled slightly and he found himself falling into Hala Ge, her attention diverted to him as she placed a slender hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Kylo Ren? Are you alright?” 

 

Ren did not hear her, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to reign in the abject rage that flooded his veins like lightning. The lights flickered, the sounds of rattling permeating his eardrums as the glasses on the bar vibrated and clinked. A circle had formed around him, Hala Ge looking between Ren and Hux, who was carrying on the performance regardless, but shooting Ren worried glances out of the corner of his eye whenever he was able. Ren’s gaze was fixed upon Hux, his face pale, expression murderous as he pressed his nails into his palm tight enough to draw blood. 

 

It was Hala Ge who broke his reverie. “Kylo?” She whispered, afraid to step towards him. Ren’s head darted to her, teeth gritted. 

 

_“Slave_ _Leia?”_ He spat, his voice stuttering with fury. 

 

“Well, yes-“ 

 

The lights flickered again as Ren growled, spinning on his heel and storming for the huge doors at the entrance of the hall. They blew open before him, the terrified attendant cowering as Ren thundered past, his hands in tight fists. 

 

Hux, who had stopped mid movement when the doors had been flung open, watched his bodyguard’s violent exit with blank shock. When the doors were shut again he nodded to the mandoviol player who picked up where he’d left off, allowing Hux to continue. As Hux pressed himself back against the pillar, he allowed his eyes to roll. _‘Well, kriff.’_

 

Ren barrelled down the hallway, ignoring the murmurs of the old man who’d announced Hux’s entrance earlier. The door thankfully slid open for him. As soon as he’d cleared the threshold, he turned to Dassryl, who was standing by the main entrance, eyeing him warily. 

 

“Get me off this _fucking_ tower,” Ren spat, his voice dripping with rage.

 

Dassryl visibly shrank, taking a step back. “There’s a turbo lift here-“ he stammered, scurrying over and tapping a code into a keypad. The door slid open. Without saying a word, Ren stormed inside, his breath tight in his lungs, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. The door slid shut and the lift began to descend, quickly picking up speed, the lights outside blurring together. Ren was so full of fury that he saw none of it. He was only just managing to hold his Force at bay, aware of the fact that he was close to smashing every piece of transparisteel within a mile radius. The lift finally came to a stop at the street floor and Ren stepped out, storming forwards, pushing past others, no direction in mind. He eventually found himself in a deserted backstreet, the crowds on the main routes scraping against his mind in ways he couldn’t process at the moment. 

 

Letting out a cry, Ren punched the wall in front of him again and again, caring little about the mess of his knuckles and lamenting the fact that he wasn’t carrying his lightsaber. His hair fell about his face. Pain from his injured chest lanced down his body, sweat pricking his brow as he punched and punched until the last vestiges of energy left him and he slumped down against the brickwork, his feet sliding in the dust on the ground. 

 

Ren let his head fall back against the wall, his gaze flicking upwards to the hazed sky above him, occasionally permeated with the flash of a transport. Even the stars were blocked out, the lights which emblazoned the city at all hours concealing the surrounding galaxy. Ren was trapped in this overbuilt, noisy hovel of a planet. He scowled, tearing his sling off and throwing it against the wall opposite. ‘ _Maybe I should just admit defeat and go down to the lowest levels,’_ he mused, his heavy brows knitted together in a mix of anger and pain. He knew full well that the deeper one went into the bowels of the planet, the less hospitable and lawful it became. So far he’d been lucky to never have descended past the first 5. 

 

A gust of wind blew down the narrow street, blowing dust into Ren’s eyes. He angrily scrubbed at his eye with a fist. Hux’s voice echoed down the empty street.

 

“Are you crying?” 

 

Ren’s head shot up, focussing on Hux who was sauntering down the alley towards him. He was wearing his own clothes again. 

 

“Of course not.” Ren growled. “Don’t come near me.” 

 

Hux quirked an eyebrow, continuing his approach. “What have I done?” 

 

“That _fucking_ costume. How dare you- how-“ Ren spat, his rage bubbling to the surface again. 

 

Hux came to a stop, confused. “Wait, it was the costume that sent you flying off the handle? I thought-“ 

 

_“I don’t care what you thought it was!”_ Ren bellowed, chest heaving. “How dare you defile her like that. You disgust me, you have no _idea-“_

 

Hux cut him off. “I disgust you? For what? Playing a slave? Pandering to what the gentry want on this gods-forsaken planet?”

 

“Not just any slave.” 

 

Hux let out a laugh. “Oh, it’s about the fact I dress as Leia? What, is that some kind of sin on the planet you grew up on? Is General Organa some kind of kriffing deity you all kneel around and offer fruits to? I’m not about to apologise for dressing up as some little figurine you keep on your bedside and kiss before you go to sleep-” 

 

Ren felt something within him snap as he shot up, the lights dimming in the nearby streets, the dust on the floor rising into the air as he bellowed, _“she’s my mother!”_

 

There was a pause, the echoes of Ren’s admission ricocheting off the brickwork. Hux stared at him, mouth open in blank shock while Ren panted, reeling. As the anger faded, the cold crush of realisation sank in. _‘Kriff,’_ he thought, dismayed at his own misstep. 

 

“Your _what?”_ Hux whispered eventually, eyes wide. 

 

“My… my mother.” 

 

“So the rumours are true…” Hux murmured, stepping closer. “When you said-“

 

“Yeah.” Ren sighed. He slumped against the wall again, sinking down to the ground. Hux, to Ren’s surprise, joined him, a wry smile on his face. 

 

“I’m in the presence of royalty, it seems.” 

 

Ren scowled. “Fuck off.” 

 

Hux let out a long breath, lips pursed. “Look,” he eventually began. “I’m sorry. I can’t say I’m not entirely to blame, but it wasn’t completely my decision to come up with that performance in the first place. Do you remember what Hala Ge said about my being in her company on Kamino?” 

 

Ren nodded stiffly, his gaze trained away from Hux. He heard him sigh.

 

“Well, I wasn’t there by choice, as you can imagine. As much as cloning interests my academy weapon-design side, I can’t earn too many credits taking my clothes off for a race which doesn’t have a concept of sexual desire.” 

 

As much as Ren was still seething, he found himself listening. He let his head drop back against the wall, eyes trained once again towards the hazy sky.

 

“I’d been recruited by Mercuri Harrin for the first time to perform on a 4 month pleasure cruise. He’d invited all of his disgusting high-society friends. It was a floating cage of sin: I saw things happen there that made _me_ blush, and I’ve been at this far too long. This was before he was a Senator, so he hadn’t learned the consequences of his actions yet. He’d seen me on a holovideo, and paid me more than I’d ever earned before to essentially become his pleasure slave. I was naive; I thought he’d just want me to perform, play arm candy, maybe do some serving work. For three weeks he tried to fuck me: cornering me, trying to drug me, attempting to break into my room at night. He’s not a smart man. I easily avoided him. 

 

‘Eventually though, he got tired of my games and thought he’d be rid of me. After all, I was ruining his holiday. He had me jettisoned off to the nearest hospitable planet. It turned out to be Kamino. I stepped into a raging storm with naught - no money or means of communication, and wearing nothing but the negligee Harrin had given me onboard. I went to the nearest door and hammered on it. To my great luck, Hala Ge opened.”

 

Hux let out a mirthless laugh. “I must have looked a sight. A sopping wet, shivering little waif wearing little more than a slip of fabric. I certainly wouldn’t have let me in, so I counted it a blessing when Hala Ge just stepped aside without a word. She sat me down, handed me a towel and a hot drink, and let me sit there in silence until I was ready to talk. I ended up staying with her for a couple of weeks. How she found clothes for me I have no idea, but she gave me a pair of trousers and a jumper and just… let me exist with her, really. 

 

“One night she told me that Creena Harrin, Mercuri’s mother (though, I didn’t know that at the time), was due to arrive in two days to discuss a clone programme for the First Order. I knew then I had a chance to undermine Mercuri and potentially gain more influence. Hala Ge and I devised a performance which would appeal to Creena, and as you probably know, Creena and your mother weren’t on best terms.”

 

Ren did remember. Aged 11, he’d been at a party happily practicing his Shyriiwook with a diplomat from Kashyyyk when a smash had silenced the crowd. His mother and Creena were nose to nose, a trickle of red dripping from the broken wine glass in Leia’s hand. 

 

_“I would never sanction the use of children in warfare, even for espionage purposes. Have you no soul?” She’d hissed, the blood from her hand plinking steadily into the carpet._

 

_“Oh, Leia,” Creena had said, her voice slimy. “You’re so wrapped up in your own delusions of right and wrong that you fail to see the benefits of using underhand tactics. I can assure you, the First Order has no such qualms.”_

 

_“And that is why I am not a General of the First Order, Creena. They're children!”_

 

_Creena’s eyes had slid across to Ren, who was watching the interchange through his already long hair. Her smile was vicious. “Children with dark destinies will always become dark, no matter how hard you try to turn them towards the light. Why push? Let them coerce and kill. It makes them strong.”_

 

_The slap that resounded across the room made everyone in attendance jump, not just Ren. A streak of blood was smeared across Creena’s cheek, Leia’s discarded glass now on the floor. Ren had never seen his mother so angry. Her eyes were black, murderous._

 

_“Get out,” she’d said, her voice smooth. “If I catch you within a parsec of this place again I’ll make you regret you ever met me.”_

 

Creena hadn’t needed to be told twice. 

 

Hux continued. “Well, that feud was legendary, and I thought I may be able to use it to my advantage. So Hala Ge and I put together a costume, and I managed to wheedle myself in as a performer at the dinner. The display was a hit, and she asked me to stage it again at the Spring Fundraiser next month. I agreed, the performance became a Harrin special, and Mercuri was forced to take me back under his wing in allegiance to his mother. She was a force of nature, if I ever saw one. Put Samira to shame.” 

 

There was a beat of silence while Ren took this all in. Eventually, he spoke. “What happened to Creena?”

 

Hux’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? It was all over the news a few years ago. She died in a transport crash. Her funeral was the event of the year - you were nobody if you weren’t invited.” 

 

“Were you invited?” 

 

Hux scoffed. “Of course I was. But I deemed it safer not to go, seeing as the whole extended Harrin family wold be in attendance. Too much power even for me.” 

 

Ren, eyes still trained on the hazy sky, sighed. “I’m still pissed.” 

 

“Yes, I thought you might be. But I am sorry. I don’t hold anything against General Organa.”

 

Ren didn’t answer. His relationship with his mother was deeply painful on a good day. No matter how hard she’d tried, Ren’s moral compass was tipped towards the chaotic, and even as a boy he’d been impulsive and violent. Creena Harrin’s prediction had proved hauntingly accurate - the pull to the Dark had always been strong with Ben Solo. When he’d done the unthinkable and destroyed Luke’s school, killing his fellow padawan, he’d crossed the rubicon. 

 

Hux peered at him, frowning at the pained expression across his face. He let out a slow breath before scooting up to him and laying a tentative hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn’t shrug him off. “I’m sorry, Ren.” Hux whispered. “I didn’t know.” 

 

Ren let his head flop down onto Hux’s hand, his eyes sliding shut. “Yeah,” he murmured.

 

 

The sun was predictably unforgiving as Ren trudged through some unnamed alley on Coruscant. No matter how much he’d tried, he had not learned to navigate the sprawling mess of a city planet any better than when he’d first landed here all those years ago. He’d since given up, preferring to wander until he was tired and use the tracker in his data pad to get back to his room. This was one such day, and Ren had simply set out to follow his feet. He hadn’t seen Hux since the gala last week. At first it had been a chosen abstinence, Ren deciding that he would do with some time away from the man whom had been catalyst to the recent chaos in his life. The wound Snoke had inflicted had healed, but a bright, shiny scar had been left as a reminder of his misdemeanour. 

 

After a few days however, Ren’s feeing of righteous avoidance had crumbled into apprehension. He was scared to see Hux again, scared to feel the giddy bubble of excitement and lust which bloomed whenever he got a glimpse of him. He was teetering on the edge of disobedience when they met - Snoke had never explicitly denied him a partner, but as he had little to do with the mission, Hux was a disposable commodity. Ren knew Snoke wouldn’t hesitate to kill Hux at the first opportunity. This should have been enough for him to never see Hux again, but Ren continually found himself standing at the steps down to the club. 

 

The sandy dirt was soft under his boots as he walked, leaving a trail of large footprints behind him. He’d admitted defeat and left his helmet behind, replacing his body warmer and undershirts with the black top Hux had given him. His leather trousers, cowl and thick boots stayed. No matter how hard Hux laughed at him, he would not be seen dead in _sandals._

 

Without realising, Ren had been following his nose, the savoury smells growing stronger as he turned a corner and came to a square filled with tents and stalls selling all manner of food. His interest piqued for the first time in days, Ren wandered through, peering at the wide array of raw, cooked, exotic and squirming delicacies from across the galaxy. The savoury smell which had drawn him there turned out to be a sort of baked dumpling filled with meat and vegetables. As he passed, he held out a gloved hand. Without even looking at Ren, the vendor lifted a hot pasty from a tray, wrapped it in a page from an old holojournal, and gave it to him. He couldn't hide the smirk from his lips as he unwrapped it and found a wall to lean against. 

 

Those manning the stalls were quieter here. The sun was high in the sky; their main business was done for the day. It was downright peaceful for Coruscant. The meat was sweet and tender in Ren’s mouth as he gazed across the square, watching two Twi’lek children chasing each other around a pile of crates. Something caught his eye as he swept his gaze across the market again. Pocketing the crumpled, crumby holojournal, he picked his way across to the other side of the market, coming to rest in front of a great pile of fruit with rich, burgundy skins. This stall owner, a wizened human, peered up at him from under a wide straw hat. 

 

“Ever had a durang fruit?” She croaked at him. 

 

“A long time ago.” He said, his gaze still fixed on the fruit. “My mother showed me how to check if they were ripe.”

 

_“Here, Ben.” Leia Organa had said, handing a soft, dark red fruit down to him. “This is a durang. They’re delicious, but only when they’re ripe.”_

 

_“How do I know if it’s ripe?” He’d asked, the fruit filling his little palm._

 

_Leia took another from the bowl on the table and bent down to him. “Do you see that little bit on the bottom there?” She murmured, pointing at a hard brown lump at the base. “That’s where it grows. They grow on top of the ground like a pumpkin. Now, if it’s green, it’s not ready. It’ll be sour and hard. If it’s the same colour as the skin, it’s too ripe. I had the misfortune of eating a half-rancid one once, and let me tell you, you don’t want to try it.”_

 

_“What did it taste like?”_

 

_“Like death smells.” She smirked as his smile turned into a grimace. “But, if it’s nice and ripe and brown like this one, it’s the nicest thing you’ll ever eat.”_

 

That afternoon, they’d sat hand in hand and eaten sliced durang in the garden overlooking the forest. It was Ren’s most bittersweet memory. He blinked.

 

“You okay there?” The wizened woman said again, an eyebrow quirked. “Don’t cry on me, I’m far too old and lazy to comfort you.” 

 

Ren glanced at her, his lip curled into a snarl. She scoffed at him. “Too old and lazy to be scared, either. You gonna buy some durang or are you just going to stand there and stare at them all afternoon? I don’t have all day you know.” 

 

“What do you do with the ones you don’t sell?”

 

“I take a few home to make into jam,” she said, throwing a thumb towards a stack of jam jars covered neatly with scraps of fabric, “and the rest I give to the bantha in exchange for milk. She loves ‘em. By far my best customer.” 

 

Sure enough, a bantha stood a few hundred metres away, chewing languidly on some hay. There was a large sign slung over her back which read ‘ _Fresh Blue Milk All Day!’_ The owner, was sitting under her, sheltering from the heat in the shadow she cast. Ren looked back at her. “Why do you do this all day if you don’t ever sell all of your fruit? Why don’t you just buy less of them?” 

 

The old woman shrugged, a smile on her lips. “You’re a traveller. You don’t stay anywhere long, if ever. I’ve been selling durang fruits in this very spot for nigh on 15 years now. I know every single person in this market, and they all know me. If I’m ever sick or weak and I don’t turn up in the morning, someone will come and check on me. If Jori- “ she waved at another old lady across the way, “were to ever kick the bucket, her grandson would have more than 20 people turn up at his door and offer to take him on as an apprentice. If Mackokon - the Twi’Lek over there with the green Lekku - ever cheats on his girlfriend again, he’ll get black eyes from every other woman here. If that bantha is ever mistreated, the owner will have me to answer to. 

 

“Now young man. You’re certainly more cultured than I am. But do you have anyone who would carry your bags for you if you weren’t well enough to do it yourself? If your mother or father died, would you have people ringing your bell to offer you support? Are you sharing your leftover fruits with an animal that can’t choose whether it lives or dies?”

 

“I don’t need _supporting.”_ Ren snapped back. 

 

The old woman took a long look at him through a hole in her hat. “Well, there you go. You know, I think you might be even lonelier than I first thought.” 

 

“Kriff off you ol-“

 

“Now now,” she snapped, her voice sharp in that practiced way that comes with age. “I’m going to be nice to you because I think you need somebody to be nice to you. If, however, you don’t want to be at least cordial to me in return, I’ll get Vur to set the bantha on you.” 

 

Ren sighed, pressing his lips together. It was not in his best interests to battle a bantha in the desert, let alone in the middle of a market in Coruscant. “Fine.” He grumbled.

 

“That’s better. Here, take this,” she said, handing him a bag, “and fill it with some of the durang. I’ll let you pick the best ones.” 

 

“I- I don’t have any credits.” Ren stammered, holding the bag loosely in his hands. He was utterly thrown by the whole situation. 

 

“Didn’t I say I was being nice? Now I’m letting you have these on the condition that you share them with somebody. I couldn't care less whom, but you must share them. Alright?” She said, her wrinkled face crumpling into a surprisingly warm smile. “Take the one at the front left. It’s perfect.” 

 

Ren obeyed, picking the soft fruit from the pile and dropping it into the bag. He felt as if he was moving by clockwork, turning each fruit in his hands to inspect it. A small part of him was reeling at the fact that he, Kylo Ren, was taking orders and advice from a _fruit seller,_ but this was overwhelmed by a strange sense of nostalgic calm as he turned each rich fruit in his hands to check the base, before placing it in the bag. When he had enough, he turned back to her. 

 

“Are you sure you want me to take these?” Ren said, his voice cracking. The handles of the bag were tight in his grip.

 

“Yes dear,” she said, a knowing look on her old face. “Off you go now. Come back with money next time.”

 

Ren nodded, turning, and walked away. Away from the square, and the market, and the woman, and the bantha. Away from the pile of deep red fruit. Away from his mother’s soft voice and softer hands.

 

— 

 

It wasn’t long after his strange interlude with the woman at the market that Ren found himself at the club again. He’d quickly realised that he had no hope in hell of eating all the durang fruits he’d taken before they turned, and he felt strangely indebted to the old lady. He wanted to do what she’d said. ‘ _Was she force sensitive?’_ he mused as he stomped down the steps. He certainly hadn’t felt anything amiss from her, but Ren knew that could mean little.

 

The door slid open at his presence and Ren stepped into the club. Hux was mid-performance but still stole a small smile at him as he settled himself at the bar. The music was loud, the lights dim, but Mitaka had still clocked him as he’d entered. Ren stifled a smirk as he shakily poured a drink and slid it from the furthest point away from him possible. He swirled the golden fluid in the glass as he watched Hux lithely bend around the pole, his back arched. His pale body was lit by pink and blue lights, the colours merging across his chest and back, highlighting his soft muscles as he lifted himself up. All eyes were on him, even those who’d seen him hundreds of times before. Phasma was leaning against the wall in the back corner, arms crossed as she watched him twist and turn. She caught Ren watching her and made her way over. 

 

“Kylo Ren. Welcome back.” 

 

Ren inclined his head in greeting, preferring to carry on watching Hux. She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

 

“I hope that’s not a bomb. I’ll have to escort you off the premises.” 

 

“What?” Ren asked, eyebrows furrowed, before he realised what she was gesturing to. He’d dumped the bag of durang fruits on the bar, preferring to nurse his drink. 

 

“Oh. It’s fruit.” He grunted. 

 

“Making sure we get our recommended vitamin intake?” She said, her voice lilting with humour. Burying a hand into the bag, she grabbed a durang. “I’m not sure I’ve had one of these before.” 

 

Hux finished his performance and sauntered away from the pole, brushing back the curtain at the end of the stage. The lights rose, revealing Phasma studying the fruit. “Oh, it’s red.” She said.

 

“It’s a durang. They’re sweet. You can eat the skin.” 

 

Phasma studied it for one more moment, before taking a tentative bite. “It’s good!” She exclaimed. Grabbing another, she tossed it to the bartender. “Here, try this.” 

 

Mitaka took a tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise at the rich flavour. Ren couldn’t hide a little smirk. He reached a big hand into the bag and claimed one for himself. Just before he was able to take a bite, a flash of orange entered his view. Hux was approaching their little group, still wearing nothing but the scant lingerie he’d performed in. The blush pink complimented his skin tone marvellously, highlighting his light dusting of freckles. It was hard not to stare, and Ren felt colour creep into his cheeks as Hux slid a hand around his waist. 

 

“Have you brought us a gift?” Hux asked smoothly, his slender fingers plucking a durang which had rolled from the bag. “Ah, durang fruits. I don't think I’ve ever had a fresh one. The Harrins prefer them in jellies.” 

 

When Ren and Phasma looked at him quizzically, he elaborated. “What, do you think they feed me scraps? I’m an honoured member of the consort… or I was until last week.” He said, taking a hulking bite of the fruit. Juice dripped off his chin as he hummed his approval, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Stars, that’s good. Where did you get these?” 

 

“Uh,” Ren mumbled, trying to fathom a way to explain the strange interlude with the woman at the market. “I’m not sure where it was.” 

 

“Shame, these are so fres-“ Hux cut off as he was tapped roughly on the shoulder by a humanoid alien Ren had never seen before, with pale, translucent skin and black eyes. It’s voice was smooth but with a hiccuping camber which grated against his ears. 

 

“Star Killer?”  
  
Hux smiled sensually. “Of course. And you are?” 

 

The creature did not respond, instead whipping out a short vibrodagger and slashing roughly at Hux. Hux stumbled back into Ren who caught him before he fell, immediately turning his broad back to the assailant. Ren’s ears were roaring as he lowered Hux against the bar, fingers on his pulse only long enough to check he was still alive before he spun back to join Phasma in battle. The first creature was already dead, its neck at a strange angle, eyes flat and staring. There was no time to think however, as more attackers had appeared, some producing long vibroblades and phasers. Ren drew his saber, the stuttering hum of the red blade spurring him into action as he and Phasma quickly dispatched the others. As soon as the last smoking corpse dropped to the ground, Ren sheathed his sabre and darted back to Hux. He was still propped up against the bar, Mitaka fluttering around him nervously. 

 

“Hux,” Ren choked out, dropping to his knees beside him. There was a long, jagged stripe of red across Hux’s chest, bleeding steadily. His breath was shallow, face paled in pain. Despite this, his haughty smirk had not faded. 

 

“I told you,” Hux mumbled, the laugh catching in his throat as it jolted his wound. Ren’s stomach flipped, his hands trembling as he pulled Hux’s now ripped, bloodstained bra away from the mess. The creature which had attacked Hux had no force signature, meaning Ren had simply not noticed them in their approach. Ren only knew of a few species in the galaxy who were naturally force resistant. As his fingers skittered across Hux’s skin, searching for more wounds, he couldn't help but wonder if that first attack was planned by a Harrin.

 

Phasma joined them, holding the box of medical supplies Hux kept under his sofa. She pulled out the supplies she needed, before handing a bottle to Ren. 

 

“Clean the wound with that. I’m going to give you a painkiller, Hux.” 

 

Ren mutely did as told, his heart clenching in sympathy and regret every time Hux winced despite the pain relief. The wound wasn’t deep, but the cut was jagged and torn. Phasma was quick to apply closure strips before laying the large bacta pads across his chest. When they’d helped him to his dressing room and draped him across the sofa, Hux finally spoke. 

 

“Well, that’s that.” 

 

Phasma spoke. “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t paying enough attention-”

 

Hux cut her off with a bark of laughter. “How were you supposed to know? This is a strip club - everyone is either shady or armed, probably both.” 

 

“What was that species who slashed you?” Ren asked. He was leaning against the dressing table, arms crossed defiantly, eyes fixed on Hux’s injury. 

 

“I believe they’re called Ocsinin. They’re from the planet Farana near the Corporate Sector. They’redesperate to get under the Harrin family’s radar; I’ve seen a good few of them at parties as of late. It seems they thought they might use me as a stepping stone.” Hux shifted, wincing as his chest was pulled. “This kriffing hurts… I hope I don’t scar. I’ll lose business.” 

 

“You were nearly killed by a creature I cannot read through the Force. You tell me there are more around and they are all out for your blood, and all you can care about is your _business?”_ Ren spat. “What is wrong with you?” 

 

Hux rolled his eyes. “Is that weapon on your hip really a lightsaber?” 

 

Ren was caught short at the sudden change in topic, his mouth opening and closing around the tirade he’d already formed in his head. “Uh,” he said instead. 

 

Phasma quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yes, Sir. It’s a lightsaber.”

 

Hux’s eyes lit up. “Can I take a look at it? There was hardly anything about them in the academy library, and I’ve always wanted to find out whether the rumours about the core are-“ 

 

“No.” Ren ground out.

 

“Come on, just a look. I’ll buy you another corset. And some boots. Shiny ones.” 

 

Ren’s face turned a riotous shade of red as Phasma flicked her gaze across to him, evil joy dancing in her eyes. Hux, meanwhile, was frowning. “Phas… what did you give me?” 

 

“Ah, I put a sleep stim in it as well.” 

 

Hux groaned, his head flopping backwards against the armrest. “Phasma, you know full well they make me say odd things. Why?” 

 

“Oh, I know,” She said, lifting Hux up into a sitting position. “I’ll hail a transport. Ren, keep him awake for a few minutes.” 

 

Ren knelt down in front of Hux with newfound fear and respect for Phasma. Hux smiled down at him, his slender hands finding his dark curls. They were cold, and only then did Ren remember the fact that Hux was literally only dressed in a pair of pink lacy knickers. He stood, opening the cupboard and pulling out what looked like a long knitted tunic. _‘It’ll do,’_ he thought absently as he manhandled Hux into it. It fell to just above his knees, the beige knit dwarfing his thin frame and making his legs look extra spindly. Grabbing Hux’s boots, he slid them onto his feet. Hux looked nonplussed.   
  
“Ren, I look like a tea cosy. Where did you get this jumper? I’ve never seen it in my life.” 

 

Ren quirked an eyebrow at him. “It was in the wardrobe.” 

 

“Of course it was. This is a family heirloom knitted by my mother. Govanth Wool, you know.” 

 

“Your mother gave it to you?”

Hux blinked slowly at him. “Did she?” 

 

Ren held back a smirk as he adjusted the sleeves. It was true; the jumper did dwarf him. It would probably be too large for even himself. “It looks warm though.” 

 

“Hmm. Soft, too. Like your hair.” Hux’s smile was fond, if sleepy. 

 

“Is that true.” Ren smirked, before pulling him up. “Come on.”

 

Ren guided Hux across the club, avoiding the bodies strewn across the carpeting. He couldn’t bring himself to care about them, more busy focussing on getting an increasingly wobbly Hux up the stairs. Phasma was standing at the top, the transport doors just lowering. 

 

“Good timing,” she said, helping to hoist Hux into the transport. He was downright floppy, the overlong jumper and bare legs making him look unusually vulnerable. They sat between him, Hux’s head resting on Ren’s broad chest. 

 

“Why didn’t you just stim him when we got him back?” 

 

“It’s easier to do it when he’s off guard. He needs to sleep. And we need to talk.” Phasma replied, the neon lights sliding across her face as she peered out of the window. 

 

Ren felt his skin prickle, his mind whirring. “Why.”

 

She huffed at him. “Don’t play stupid with me, Ren. You know what this is about. But,” she sighed as she peered back out at the lights whizzing by, “not here. Patience.” 

 

Hux shifted in his sleep against Ren, and Ren cast a glance towards the droid driving the transport. He knew the model - they were easily modified. Phasma was right; this wasn’t a safe place to talk of the Knights. The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Ren staring out of the window. His mind was racing. How did Phasma know about the Knights and Snoke? Was there a mole? Was she some kind of agent? Did Snoke know about this at all? What would Master have him do? The one thing he was sure of is that he should have immediately contacted Snoke to report her whereabouts, as was one of the rules. However, since meeting the two other occupants of this transport, he’d been less and less inclined to follow orders.

 

Hux proved relatively easy to manhandle into bed. He wasn’t happy about being woken up to input his entry code, and even less happy about being forcefully removed of his clothes, but had complied to Ren’s requests to lift limbs anyway. When he was settled, Ren joined Phasma at the kitchen table, trying not to look too hard at the counter where he and Hux had brought each other off. Phasma had helped herself to a cup of tea, and another was awaiting Ren as he sat. Phasma stared levelly at him, sipping her tea. Ren sighed. “Who are you, really?” 

 

“I’m you.” 

 

Ren frowned. “What am I?” 

 

“A mindless lapdog with a shiny stick.” 

 

Ren stiffened, his grip on the cup tightening. “What?” He growled.

 

Phasma chuckled. “Control yourself. You’re scaring no-one.” Taking a sip from her tea, she continued. “I did what you do. I was a Knight of Ren.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, and that its shorter. I was going to write more, but there's a lot of drama in this chapter and I felt like we'd all need a break!   
> I've been up and down recently and I can only write while feeling motivated, so I apologise if the next chapter takes a little while also. I'll try. Please keep sending me your wonderful comments - they make me so happy <3
> 
> As ever, for the wonderful EverlivingGhosts  
> Find me @sugardaddyhux on tumblr! Always happy for a natter!

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my dearest friend, @everlivingghosts
> 
> Thank you for 1000 followers on tumblr! Come find me @sugardaddyhux. Always happy to talk :D


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